


Safe House

by Evendale



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: AU, Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 113,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evendale/pseuds/Evendale
Summary: Sergio Marquina was the only witness to a brutal murder, and now his life is in danger. The police put him in a safe house, where he is as much a prisoner as a protected witness. The officer assigned to keep him safe: Raquel Murillo. Both of them bring secrets and unresolved trauma to the house, and neither of them is happy to be there – but they are stuck together, and somehow, they’re going to have to find a way to live with each other.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 1194
Kudos: 1121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for giving my new story a shot! 😊 I'm very excited to share it with you! 🥰 
> 
> A couple of notes before we start:  
> \- this is an in-universe AU  
> \- it's set about a year before the heist in the show  
> \- Paula does not exist in this AU
> 
> I will try to update twice a week, on Sundays and Wednesdays. 
> 
> I know many of you would have preferred to get new chapters of The White Queen instead of a new AU. I'm leaving TWQ open because I do hope to return to it in the future and write some more fluff, but the actual story is done, and I'm currently not inspired to continue writing it. Thank you all so much for the love you've shown for TWQ! 💗💗💗 Writing it and sharing it with you was an amazing experience! 🥰 Of course this new story can never replace TWQ, but I still hope you'll like it! 😊
> 
> Many people were kind enough to test-read this first chapter and give me their approval and encouragement :) A big thank you to Loreak, Meg, heartunderfire, bucanek and notprincehamlet!
> 
> I've been playing with the idea for this story for more than six months, and right from the moment I first shared it with her, thegirloverseas has been an integral part of bringing it into existence. She's been unfailingly enthusiastic and supportive about the story, encouraging me to develop the initial idea, spending hours and hours talking through every single plot point with me, helping me work out the problems, and ensuring me that the story was good when I got discouraged. This story would probably not exist without her.
> 
> Finally, I want to thank you, my lovely readers! 💗 This fandom has been so incredibly generous and kind to me, and I feel so lucky to be a part of it! Thank you to everyone who's left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, and tweeted about my stories! And an especially big thank you to the people who leave comments! Sharing your thoughts with a writer is the best gift you can give them 😊💗
> 
> Alright -- enjoy the story! 😄 Much love 💗💗💗

Sergio Marquina got out of the police car, his barely-healed body protesting painfully, and looked up at the house. So this would be his prison for the next few weeks – months – perhaps even years – a prison meant to keep him safe, but a prison nonetheless. How had he gotten here, from where he had been just a few weeks ago? He still had trouble fully grasping the sudden turn his life had taken, still woke up every morning hoping that it had all been a nightmare, only to be reminded of reality by the metal cuff around his wrist that kept him chained to his hospital bed. Well, at least he was out of hospital now, and he wouldn’t be confined to just a bed anymore. He supposed he should learn to be grateful for small mercies.

“Come on,” his handler said, cuffing his hands behind his back. Even for the short walk up to the house, they weren’t taking any chances – he was too valuable.

They went up the garden path and into the house, where an officer of the local police’s technical team was already waiting for them in the small hallway. The two policemen shook hands.

“Sub-Inspector Ramirez.”

“Officer Muñoz.”

Ramirez gestured at Sergio.

“This is Salva.”

His hands were still cuffed behind his back, so Muñoz just nodded at him, and he gave a curt nod in return. This was humiliating.

“I’m here to install the system for your ankle monitor,” Officer Muñoz explained.

Sergio didn’t respond. How, _how_ had he ended up here? He’d always known that there was a possibility that he’d end up a prisoner, but not like this, not _now._

Muñoz kneeled down and rolled up Sergio’s right pant leg, then locked the monitoring device around his ankle, and the click it made had a disheartening finality to it.

“This thing is waterproof,” Muñoz said as he straightened up again, “so you can shower with it no problem. You can’t take it off, and don’t even try, because any kind of tampering will set off the alarm.”

He gestured at a small black box that was sitting next to the front door.

“This is the on-site receiver. Your monitor will send constant information to the receiver, which will transmit it to the remote receiver at our police station. If you step out of that front door, an alarm will go off, both here and at the station. There’s no use trying to run away while you’re wearing that thing, because it has GPS and we can track you while you’re still in range, which is several miles.”

“Is it on yet?” Ramirez asked.

Muñoz pressed a button on the black box, and several green lights started blinking.

“Now it is.”

Ramirez took a little key out of his pocket and unlocked Sergio’s handcuffs. A stab of pain shot through his injured shoulder as he brought his arms around to rub his wrists. He wouldn’t miss having to wear these fucking handcuffs all the time.

Muñoz said his goodbyes and left, but Ramirez turned to him.

“I’ll show you the house before I leave,” he said. “Most of it is fairly standard.”

Sergio followed his handler through the house, starting upstairs, where there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Downstairs, there was a kitchen, a laundry room and a living room. It was all rather cramped and lifeless, the walls a sterile shade of white, the furniture cheap-looking and drab, but Sergio couldn’t care less. This place could have been a palace and he still would have hated being here.

There was only one door left now.

“This is where things get interesting,” Ramirez said as he opened it and revealed that it wasn’t a regular door, but a thick steel one. “This is one of the few safe houses in Spain that has a panic room. That’s why you were assigned this house, you know, because of your… unique situation.”

Sergio glanced inside to see a room which only contained a small sink and a metal toilet. He shuddered – the space was tiny, and being locked inside it for any amount of time seemed like a horrible prospect to him.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Ramirez said, “but it will keep you safe in case of an emergency.”

He saw the look on Sergio’s face and continued:

“Don’t worry, Salva, chances are that you’ll never have to use it.”

Sergio hoped the man was right.

They returned to the living room, where they sat down at the dining table.

“You’re not allowed to have a cell phone or a laptop,” Ramirez said, “or any contact with the outside world. If you have to call me or the local police station, or if you need medical help, use the landline over there. Any time you make a call from that phone, someone will be listening in, so don’t think about calling your friends on it.”

Sergio said nothing.

“Alright,” Ramirez continued. “Now I’ll just wait here with you until your assigned officer gets here.”

That surprised Sergio out of his silence.

“Assigned officer?”

“Yes, the officer who will stay with you at all times to keep you safe.”

He stared at his handler.

“You mean… I won’t be living here alone?”

“No.”

“Is that standard procedure? Does every person in witness protection get an officer assigned to them?”

Ramirez chuckled.

“No, of course not. But not every person in witness protection has the power to put one of the most wanted men in Spain behind bars with their testimony.”

A face appeared before Sergio’s eyes – clean-shaven, expressionless. A gunshot echoed through his head, and he swallowed hard. _Not now._

Ramirez was still talking.

“The last witness we had who agreed to testify against Ortega was found and killed within weeks, even though he was in a safe house. Hence the extra precautions for you: a panic room and a permanent police presence.”

Sergio wasn’t sure what he liked the least about this information: the fact that the last witness had been killed, or the fact that he’d have to share this small house with a total stranger for who knew how long. He hadn’t lived with another person since he’d been a teenager, and the prospect was deeply unappealing to him.

Out on the street, they heard a car door slam.

“Ah,” Ramirez said, “that will be the officer.”

…

Raquel Murillo hated the house on sight. It was a small, grey building devoid of any charm, sitting squatly in its own tiny garden, isolated from the neighbors by thick hedges on every side. She sat in her car for a few minutes, just looking at this place which would be her home for the foreseeable future, and she just couldn’t believe it. How had she ended up here? Why was she in this godforsaken, backwater town near Zaragoza when she should be back in Madrid? The unfairness that she was here after… after everything was mind-boggling. When she looked at the house, she wanted nothing more than to cry – but she couldn’t afford to fall apart. She chose anger instead.

She got out of the car and took her bag out of the trunk, slamming it closed with unnecessary force. Up the garden path and through the front door, which was unlocked, into a small entrance hall, where she put down her bag. There were voices coming from an open doorway, so she went through it into a small living room to see two men sitting at a table. The younger of the two got up and held out his hand.

“Miguel Ramirez,” he introduced himself, then he gestured to his companion. “And this is Salvador Martín.”

She turned towards the second man. So this was the person she was supposed to protect – a man of about forty with untidy brown hair, glasses, and a close-kept beard, not unattractive.

“Salva, this is Officer Murillo,” Ramirez said.

“Inspector,” she corrected him. “ _Inspector_ Murillo.”

He gave her a look of surprise, which was understandable – this job was far below her paygrade. The witness, meanwhile, just gave her a sideways look and didn’t offer to shake her hand. He seemed to be just as unenthusiastic to be here as she was.

Ramirez glanced at his watch.

“I need to get going. I assume you’ve been briefed, Inspector?”

“Yes,” she said. “I have.”

“Good. I’ll just remind you that you’re not supposed to leave the house at any time. I’ll come by once a week to drop off groceries – you can text me what you need.”

She frowned.

“Can’t we have our groceries delivered?”

He shook his head.

“This is a small town, they don’t deliver groceries here.”

Well, she definitely wasn’t in Madrid anymore.

“I see.”

“Now, if you do have to leave the house for some reason – to go to the doctor, for example – I will take over from you while you’re gone. Please know that that should only happen if it’s really necessary, though, because I do have my other work.”

Raquel nodded.

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll leave you to get acquainted. I’ll check in with you once a day by phone, and if you need me, you have my number.”

She watched him go, envious that he got to leave this miserable house and this unfriendly-looking witness behind and drive back to his own home, while she didn’t have that option. She took a deep breath to push down at least some of the anger, and sat down, trying to ignore the thought that it could be months before she saw her home again. She gave the witness a closer look, noticing that he had a small, half-healed scar on his cheek above his beard. There was something about him that she didn’t like, though she had trouble identifying what it was – perhaps just his obvious reluctance to be here. Well, she shared that reluctance, but since they would probably be stuck together for quite a while, she supposed they’d better get acquainted.

“So,” she started. “You’re Salva.”

He merely nodded, looking down at the table with a blank expression.

“I read your file. You’re here because you saw Javier Ortega shoot someone.”

Another nod. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t push him. She’d read his witness statement, after all, so she knew all about it. She changed the subject and asked him the thing she’d been wondering about.

“There was something in your file that I didn’t understand,” she said. “It said that you were offered a place in the witness protection program and your charges would be dropped in return for your testimony, yet you evaded police custody and ran away from the hospital. Why?”

He finally spoke, his voice soft.

“I can keep myself safe.”

“From _Javier Ortega?”_ she said in disbelief. “Are you insane? You do know who he is, right?”

When she got no answer, she said:

“He’s the leader of the largest crime syndicate in Spain – he runs a massive operation. If he’s looking for you, the only way to stay alive is through police protection.”

“And yet the last witness in your ‘protection’ program didn’t survive very long.”

“Yes, well,” she said. “That’s why I’m here.”

He shot her a look that seemed to imply that he had little faith in her ability to keep him safe, and she bristled. Was it because she was a woman? She decided that she definitely didn’t like him.

“Either way,” she said coldly, “it’s this or prison for you. You’re here as a courtesy.”

He shook his head, looking down again.

“I’m here because I’m valuable. You know just as well as I do that Ortega has members of his gang in prisons all over Spain. One of them could have easily killed me, and you can’t afford to lose me.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic, so she changed the topic again.

“So, you’re wearing an ankle monitor?”

He didn’t even respond this time, and she decided that she was getting rather sick of his attitude.

“Look,” she snapped. “You do realize that we’ll be living together, right? Whether you like it or not, we’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep the unpleasantness to a minimum.”

He glanced at her, only to look away again, and she suddenly wondered if perhaps he might not be awkward rather than deliberately uncooperative. It didn’t curb her annoyance though.

“I didn’t mean to be unpleasant,” he said softly.

“Well, you are.”

“It’s just…”

He seemed to be struggling for words, and for the first time she saw some emotion flicker in his eyes, something that could be anguish, or sadness, or pain – but the next moment he sighed and his expression went blank again.

“It’s just that this isn’t exactly a pleasant situation for me.”

“Well,” she said briskly, “I don’t like it either, but neither of us has a choice in this, so buck up.”

He glanced at her again.

“You mean… you don’t want to be here either?”

“No,” she said curtly.

“Isn’t this your job?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

The anger, still just beneath the surface, surged again. _Because for once in my life, I was brave,_ she thought. _And because life is fundamentally unfair._

Out loud, she said:

“That’s none of your concern.”

He turned away again.

“No, you’re right.”

She pushed back her chair.

“I’m going to take a look around the house.”

Again, all she got in response was a nod.

“Have you chosen a bedroom yet?”

“No,” he said. “Feel free.”

As she got up to leave, though, he suddenly turned to her, and there was something of an appeal in his face.

“Inspector,” he said, “Do you… do you have any idea how long this will all take?”

Yes, that was the big question, wasn’t it? How long would they be stuck here? She wished she knew.

“I can’t tell you that,” she said. “Ortega needs to be caught before you can testify, and that won’t be easy. He knows we’ve got a witness who could finally get him convicted, so he’s gone underground. It will likely take the police months to find him. If they ever do.”

At her last words, his eyes went wide with dismay.

“Are you saying I might be stuck in this house… for the rest of my life?”

“Probably not,” Raquel said. “I know the Inspector who’s in charge of the case, and she’s one of the best. But I won’t pretend that it isn’t a possibility.”

And with that, she turned around and went to choose a bedroom.

…

He watched her go, feeling a sudden stab of regret that they’d gotten off on the wrong foot like that when they would have to live together – he’d just been taken completely off guard. When she’d walked into the room earlier, his immediate reaction had been alarm. The thought of having to live with another person had been bad enough, but a woman? He wasn’t used to being around women – they made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how to talk to them, which was once again proven in the subsequent conversation. In retrospect, he realized that he had indeed been rude and unpleasant, but his social skills weren’t great even under the best of circumstances, and these were definitely not the best of circumstances. He hadn’t known what to say, he hadn’t known how to behave, and then she’d mentioned… he couldn’t talk about… The sound of a gunshot echoed through his mind again, and he shook his head to clear it. _Not now._

All in all, he hadn’t even been able to get a good look at this person he would be sharing a house with. He’d only seen that she was a woman of about his own age, with dark eyes and long brown hair, and he’d had the sense of a quietly commanding presence. He realized that he should have tried harder to make a good first impression, but it was too late now, and it wasn’t like either of them was here to make friends. He was here because his only other option had been to get murdered in prison, and she was here in a professional capacity, so he assumed that they would keep any interactions to the bare minimum. His solitude was precious to him: it had been the defining characteristic of his adult life, and the condition under which he did his best work – not that he’d be working anytime soon. His work was pointless now.

He heard her move around upstairs, and he assumed she’d chosen a bedroom by the time she came back down.

“Do you want to use the kitchen?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Alright, then I’m going to make something to eat.”

She walked towards the kitchen, but then she turned back to him.

“By the way, I want to make one thing very clear: I’m not here to be your housekeeper,” she said in a warning tone. “I’m not cooking for you and I’m not doing all the cleaning. Is that clear?”

“Of course.”

She hesitated, then she said:

“But do you want to… I don’t know, eat together?”

She didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about the idea, and neither was he. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to cook for him – which was entirely reasonable – but he couldn’t really cook and he didn’t feel like making a fool of himself in front of her by trying. The prospect of having to make conversation over dinner was equally daunting, and he didn’t really want to eat anyway.

“No thank you,” he said. “I’m not hungry.”

She shrugged and turned to leave.

“Suit yourself.”

While she was in the kitchen, he just stayed sitting at the table, looking out of the window with unseeing eyes. He supposed he could turn on the TV or read a book, but he doubted that he’d be able to focus on anything right now. He needed time to process, to let his mind adjust to this change in circumstances – until yesterday, he’d been on morphine, so this was the first time in weeks that he could really think clearly. His carefully laid plans couldn’t be executed now, that much was certain. He’d been so close to putting them into motion, so close to achieving this goal that he’d been working towards for twenty years, and then it had all gone wrong. One moment was all it took. One single bad decision. The gunshot echoed through his head once more, but he firmly pushed the memory away again. _Not now._

He looked around the room, bleak and completely devoid of any personal touches. He supposed the Inspector was right, and being here was better than being in prison, but he couldn’t help but wish that his escape attempt from the hospital had worked. Then he would be abroad by now. His life would still have been ruined, but at least he would have been free. He tried to think of ways he might be able to get out of this situation now, to escape somehow, but the monitor was a heavy weight around his ankle, and his mind came up blank. His only consolation was that they didn’t know his real name, that at least he’d had his fake ID on him when it happened, and the fake identity he had spent years building for himself had held up under scrutiny. Small mercies.

It seemed like no time at all before she appeared back in the living room with her food, and he decided that he’d better go up to his bedroom so she could eat in peace. He wished her goodnight, then went into the hallway, where he picked up his bag with his good arm and took it upstairs. One of the bedroom doors was closed, so he went into the other one, a room just as lifeless as the living room downstairs. He put his bag down on the bed and looked around, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Any kind of change was hard for him, but the way that all of his certainties had suddenly been ripped away from him – he didn’t know how to deal with that.

He hated that he didn’t have his own things around him. It made him feel completely detached from his former life, completely isolated from everything that he used to be. While he was still in the hospital, an officer had gone by his apartment to get him some clothes, some toiletries and some books, but he’d only been allowed to request one personal item. He took it out of his bag now: a beautiful wooden chess set, which he put down on his bed. He opened the box and carefully selected one of the black pawns, the one which had three golden words engraved on the bottom. He closed his fingers around it and held it tight for a moment, trying to evoke a feeling of connection with his old life, then he put it down on the nightstand next to his bed.

He decided to go straight to bed. The more he slept, the quicker he would heal, the doctor had said, and he meant to follow that advice – sleep was the only thing that brought him any relief from the constant mental effort of keeping the memories at bay. He supposed he should be having nightmares, but besides a bunch of painkillers, the doctor had also given him some medication to help him sleep, and he gratefully took advantage of that to have eight hours of blissful unconsciousness every night. He took a sleeping pill, put on his pajamas and got between the sheets, then took off his glasses and fought against the memories that instantly threatened to drown him – the expressionless face that he saw every time he closed his eyes – the sound of the gunshot, a permanent echo in his mind – a body hitting the ground. _Not now,_ he thought desperately, _not now_ , _not now,_ but he’d been resisting the images all day and now they wouldn’t leave him alone anymore. It was a relief when he felt the sedative pull him down into a dreamless sleep.

…

Raquel sat down at the table with a steaming plate of pasta. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she’d noticed that the nightmares were worse if she went to bed without eating, so she finished the entire plate. After that, she cleaned up, and then there was nothing left to do. She sat down on the sofa and took out her cellphone to call her mother.

“Raquel!”

“Hi mamá.”

“Did you get there alright?”

“Yes, I did.”

“How is the house?”

“Not that nice, but that was to be expected.”

“And how is the person you’re protecting?”

Raquel sighed.

“Not that nice either.”

“He’s not dangerous, is he?”

“No, not at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He was never convicted for any violent crimes and we did a psych evaluation. I’m not really here to guard him, just to protect him. He’s only wearing an ankle monitor because he tried to run away once and we don’t want that to happen again. He’s harmless, really. He just seems very unfriendly.”

Her mother made a sympathetic sound, but then she said:

“Maybe he just needs some time to settle down. This can’t be an easy change for him either.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m sure he’ll become friendlier once you get to know each other.”

Raquel privately doubted it, but she didn’t argue. Her mother continued, her tone uncertain now.

“Raquel… when are you coming home again?”

“I’ve told you, mamá, I don’t know how long this will take. Maybe a few weeks, maybe months.”

“Won’t you even come home for the weekends?”

Raquel had explained this several times, but her mother’s memory kept getting worse.

“No, I can’t leave here. I’ll save up all of my weekend days, and then after six months – if I have to stay that long – I’ll get two months off at once.”

“Why can’t someone else take over from you during the weekends?”

She’d explained this too, but she repeated it patiently.

“There’s a reason for that, but it’s classified information, so I can’t tell you.”

“Alright… Then remind me again why _you_ had to do this? Why couldn’t it have been some local officer?”

“Because he’s an extremely valuable witness,” Raquel said, “and the Commissioner wanted someone on the case whom he could trust absolutely.”

That was just an excuse, of course, but Raquel didn’t want to upset her mother by telling her the real reason why she’d been given this job. She decided it would be safer to change the subject.

“Is Laura taking good care of you?”

“Well,” her mother said carefully, “she does the best she can.”

Raquel felt a stab of guilt. Her sister wasn’t a very caring person – her mother needed _her_ , and she wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry I had to leave, mamá.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know your job is demanding.”

“Still, I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s only for a while,” her mother said in a soothing tone. “And besides, you’ll be home again this weekend.”

Raquel’s heart sank.

“No, mamá,” she repeated gently. “I won’t be home this weekend. I’ll have to stay here until the case is solved, remember?”

“Oh,” Mariví said, “oh yes, of course. And… and how long with that be?”

“Like I told you, I don’t know. It could be months.”

“That’s a long time,” her mother said softly.

She suddenly felt tears burn behind her eyes, and she had to swallow hard before she could reply:

“I know. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

The tears were threatening to spill over, and she couldn’t let them. So she said:

“I… I think I’m going to bed.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes… yes, I’m just tired. Goodnight, mamá.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Will you call me again tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Raquel promised, “I will.”

When she hung up the phone, she pressed her hands against her eyes in an attempt to keep back the tears. She so desperately wanted to be back home, in her own house, to take care of her mother, and to go to work in the morning to do a job she was good at, instead of sitting here for weeks on end, completely useless. Suddenly she couldn’t sit still anymore – she felt trapped – she needed some fresh air. The house didn’t have a back yard, so she opened the front door to the cool early autumn air, and she breathed in deeply as she leaned against the doorframe and looked out over the quiet suburban street. Nothing moved, there was nobody outside, and the setting sun was painting the scattered clouds a deep, bloody red. It wasn’t a particularly inspiring view, but it was better than the inside of the house, so she stayed standing there for minute after minute, watching the sun go down.

She only moved to go back inside when it was completely dark. Then she slowly closed the door and went up to her bedroom, noticing that the light in Salva’s room was already out. She let herself fall onto her bed and rubbed her hands over her face – oh, what an absolutely awful day. She felt the anger rise up again, anger at this whole goddamn situation, and she let it burn, she didn’t try to control it. Anger was better than the alternative. Right underneath the surface, she could feel other things stir, worse things – things like helplessness, and despair, and a depth of pain that she hadn’t even begun to address. She couldn’t deal with any of that right now.

So she held on to the anger for dear life, because without it, she would break, she would shatter, and if the tears came, she worried that they would never stop. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in sleep, but she was afraid to close her eyes – she knew that she would dream about Alberto if she did. In an attempt to calm down, she tried to ground herself, tried to focus on the present… except the present wasn’t much better. Now that she was here, it was really starting to sink in how much she was paying for her mistake, how much she had lost. She looked around the barren room, thought about the man in the next room, and punched her pillow in frustration. No matter how she looked at it, of one thing she was sure: the next few months were going to be absolutely horrible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start by thanking everyone who's left a comment on the first chapter! 😊💗 I know there are a lot of new stories/chapters being posted right now, so I really appreciate those of you who found the time to leave a comment on mine! 🥰 Starting a new story is always a little scary, so encouragement in the form of kudos and comments is super appreciated! 😊
> 
> A big thank you also to Loreak, Meg, notprincehamlet and Bucanek for beta reading and giving me feedback! I appreciate it so much! 💗
> 
> And, as always, a huge thank you to thegirloverseas, who is the best beta reader anyone could ever wish for, and who is always, always there for me 💗
> 
> And finally, to those of you who are celebrating: a very Merry Christmas! 💗💗💗

Sergio turned the water as hot as it would go, then stepped into the shower and let it patter down on him, hoping it would wash away some of the embarrassment he was feeling. Fifteen minutes ago, he’d gotten out of bed, his head still fuzzy from the sleeping pill he’d taken, and opened the door to the bathroom without thinking, only to walk in on the Inspector only half-dressed.

“Hey!” she’d yelled, quickly closing the shirt she was buttoning.

He instantly felt himself turn a fiery shade of red as he hastily closed the door again, saying:

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Next time you _knock_!” she shouted after him.

He’d retreated back to his room, where he sank down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. What a terrible way to start their first day together. What a _stupid_ thing to do, to walk into a bathroom without knocking when there was another person in the house. He was just so used to living alone that he had long since forgotten all the little courtesies that came with sharing your space with other people – and he felt a stab of alarm as he wondered what other stupid things he would do because of that. He’d have to be much more careful from now on. 

The embarrassment had still barely faded as he stepped out from under the shower and started toweling off. He kept shooting glances at the door – it didn’t have a lock and that made him nervous – though he supposed _she_ wouldn’t just barge in without knocking. It took a while before he was fully dry, since he still had to move slowly, careful of his many injuries. The bruises on his legs had finally faded, but the left side of his chest was a mass of angry red scars, and his broken ribs were only just starting to mend. He still had trouble using his left arm – the doctor had said it would take months before that was fully healed.

He got dressed, then he put on some cologne. He didn’t usually wear cologne – he’d only bought a bottle years ago because it reminded him of his father, but the police officer who’d gotten his things from his apartment had brought it, and the smell was comfortingly familiar in these strange new circumstances. Then he opened the bathroom door a little to let out some of the steam, waiting for the mirror to clear so he could trim his beard. When he opened the cabinet under the sink where he’d put his toiletries yesterday, he saw that the Inspector had put some of her things on the shelf in front of his razor. He realized that he’d put his things on both shelves of the cabinet without thinking to leave a shelf free for her, so she’d just added her things wherever there was room. He thought that it would be easier to each have a separate shelf, but he felt instinctively that he shouldn’t move her things without her permission – he didn’t want to commit another transgression so soon after the last one. At that point, he heard her walk past in the hallway, so he straightened up and opened the door.

“Inspector?”

She turned and gave him a cool look that made him remember his earlier embarrassment.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, I just thought it might be good if we each had a separate shelf in the cabinet under the sink.”

She nodded. “Okay. So?”

“Well, could you move your things?”

She rolled her eyes as she walked past him into the bathroom.

“You couldn’t do that yourself?”

“It’s just… those are your private things… I felt like I shouldn’t…”

“Is it because they’re _lady things?”_ she said as she knelt down and started clearing out her items. “Are you one of those guys who’s afraid to touch a box of tampons?”

He frowned.

“No,” he said. “No, that’s not it. I just… haven’t been around women much, and I’m not sure about the protocol.”

She looked at him and comprehension seemed to dawn on her.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re gay.”

“What? No, I’m not gay.”

“Then how come…?”

“I’d really prefer not to talk about that,” he said stiffly.

“Of course,” she said quickly, turning back to the cabinet. “That’s none of my business. Can I move your things?”

“Sure,” he said.

She moved his items to the top shelf, then put all of her own things on the bottom shelf.

“There,” she said, straightening up. “Done.”

“Thank you.”

She turned to leave, and he felt suddenly that he couldn’t let her go like that, he had to make amends somehow for his behavior this morning.

“Inspector,” he said, and she turned again.

“What?”

To his embarrassment, he felt himself go red.

“I’m sorry for walking in on you earlier,” he said, looking at the floor. “I’m not used to living with someone.”

“Well,” she said, “better get used to it quickly, because I don’t appreciate that sort of thing.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “I’ll never forget to knock again.”

“Good,” she said coolly. “And don’t think about ‘accidentally’ walking into the wrong bedroom or anything like that either.”

He looked up sharply. Oh god, did she think that he’d done it on _purpose?_

“I didn’t… I wouldn’t…” he tried to clarify, but she turned her back on him and walked down the stairs, leaving him with the feeling that he’d somehow managed to make things even worse.

…

Raquel was not having a good morning. Lack of sleep and the constant nightmares meant that she had woken up exhausted, and she only felt worse as she remembered where she was and what her life would look like from now on. Salva walking in on her as she was getting dressed had _not_ improved her mood, and neither had the little conversation they’d just had. She didn’t _really_ think that he’d walked in on her on purpose, but she’d dealt with too much inappropriate behavior from men in her life to completely discount the possibility, and there was just _something_ about him that she didn’t like. She hadn’t had enough time yet to fully figure out what kind of person he was – either he was a creep, or he was the most awkward person she’d ever met. Neither option made her feel particularly thrilled about having him as a roommate. As she went down the stairs, there was a little voice in the back of her mind saying that she shouldn’t have been so unfriendly to him, but the anger she was still feeling overruled it. She held on tight to that anger – she needed it – without it, she would fall apart.

She went into the kitchen to make herself coffee and breakfast, expecting him to come down to do the same, but he didn’t appear, not even after she’d finished her breakfast and washed up. She wondered about that – he hadn’t had any dinner yesterday, so he must be hungry by now. Why wasn’t he eating? The next moment she decided that it really wasn’t her problem, and she turned her thoughts to what was now the question at the very center of her existence: what the hell was she going to do all day? Her duties here were very limited: her only job was to protect him, and that only required her constant presence in the house – it didn’t involve any actual _work_. If all went well, nothing would happen at all while they were here.

She decided that she should try to keep busy, for as much as that was possible, so she took out her laptop and settled herself at the table in the living room. When she opened her inbox, there were several e-mails from Angel, who had taken over most of the cases they’d been working on, and who seemed to be struggling with them. She shook her head as she read through the many questions he’d sent her – most of these he should have been able to figure out on his own – but at least it gave her something to do. She gave long, detailed answers to each of his queries, trying to draw out the task, but after about an hour, she was done. Now what?

She went up to her room and took her e-reader out of her bag. Luckily she’d anticipated lots of quiet time, and she’d downloaded a number of books that she’d been wanting to read for a while. She didn’t particularly feel like reading, but there was nothing else to do, and she reasoned that reading would at least take her mind off of the awfulness of her current situation, so she dropped down on the sofa in the living room and started the first book on her list.

She tried to pretend that she was on vacation and that was why she had so much free time, but it didn’t work. She simply couldn’t relax. She knew that they weren’t really in danger, but she felt uneasy and on edge – her eyes kept flicking to the doors and windows, and her hand kept going to her gun, which she’d decided to keep on her at all times. This awful feeling, this constant sense of impending danger, was only too familiar, and she couldn’t believe that she was stuck with it again so soon after she’d finally managed to achieve a sense of safety for herself. She now realized how precious that feeling of safety was, and how hard it was on her to lose it again.

As she tried to focus on her book, she kept waiting for Salva to come down, but several hours passed without any sign of him, and she vaguely wondered what he was doing up in his room – not that he had many options. She supposed he was reading as well. It wasn’t until after she’d made herself lunch that he finally came down the stairs, so quietly that he startled her by his sudden appearance. He didn’t try to talk to her, however – he just disappeared into the kitchen, only to come out again a few minutes later to go back up to his room. He didn’t seem at all inclined to try to get to know her better, and she was perfectly fine with that. Despite the fact that the book she’d chosen had a rather cheerful writing style, it hadn’t yet managed to put her in a better mood, and she didn’t want any company.

She couldn’t believe how slowly the hours crawled by during the afternoon. At five p.m., there was a call on the landline from Ramírez, who asked her how things were going and told her that he’d be checking in on them every day at the same time. It was the only remotely interesting thing to happen all day, which was such a depressing thought that she quickly pushed it away and got up to start dinner. She decided to cook something more elaborate than she usually would, just because it gave her something to do. After dinner, she decided that she was tired of reading, so the only option that was left to her was to turn on the TV and spend the evening listlessly staring at the screen. This only confirmed what she already knew: that there was no pleasure in rest and relaxation if you’d spent all day doing nothing.

It was dark outside by the time she switched off the TV. She took out her phone and called her sister to make sure that she was taking good care of their mother, then she talked to her mother for a bit, which only made her feel more homesick. When she went up to bed a few minutes later, she realized that Salva had only come down once all day, and that he’d skipped dinner again. Wasn’t he still recovering from his injuries? Shouldn’t he be eating properly? But once again she told herself that it wasn’t her concern – she wasn’t his mother. She was here to make sure that he didn’t get murdered by Ortega, and she intended to do her job, but no more than that. If he wanted to starve himself, that wasn’t her problem.

She brushed her teeth, put her gun on her bedside table, and got into the bed, where she lay down and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t really want to sleep yet – she knew the nightmares were just waiting for her to close her eyes – but she desperately wanted this awful day to be over. So she rolled onto her side and hugged her second pillow to her chest, trying with all her might not to think about the fact that the next day would be an exact repeat of this one – and the next, and the next, and the next. _One day at a time,_ she told herself. She couldn’t afford to look too closely at the future, because it would only make her cry. All she could do was take things one day at a time.

…

Sergio spent his days in his room playing chess, and coming up with increasingly elaborate and absurd escape attempts. He knew none of them could work, but he kept generating them all the same, because it kept his mind busy and that helped him not to think about… A hundred times a day, he had to push the thought away – _not now_ – but chess helped, so he stayed in his room and played. He had never needed much company, and after embarrassing himself so badly in front of the Inspector that first day, he felt like he’d better avoid her for a while. The forced inactivity was hard on him though. He was used to spending his days working on his plans, and the sudden absence of any project to work on made him restless. The worst thing about it was the knowledge that, if things had gone just a little differently, he’d be putting things in motion right now: he’d be looking for a suitable house to rent, and he’d be recruiting the members of his team.

He tried to tell himself that this was just a delay – he’d still get to finish his life’s work, just a little later than planned – but he knew that, after what had happened, it would be much harder to implement the plan. In the back of his mind, there was a small, nagging voice that kept saying that it was impossible now, but he ignored it. It might be right, but he wasn’t capable of giving up on his plan yet, he couldn’t just let it go – because without it, he had nothing left. Over and over again, he picked up that particular black pawn from his chessboard to read the words on the bottom, and he took strength from them.

The only time he left his room was to use the bathroom and, once a day, to go to the kitchen to get some food – he knew he should be eating more, but he had absolutely no appetite. Towards the end of the week, however, his limited supply of clean clothes had run out, and he had to venture down to the laundry room to see if he could figure out the washer and drier. When he got there and opened the little door of the washer, he saw that the Inspector had also chosen today to do laundry, and that her clothes were still in the machine. He instinctively closed the washer again, thinking he should come back later, but then he hesitated. What was the proper laundry room etiquette? Would it be the polite thing to do to put her clothes in the drier? He still felt like he shouldn’t touch her things, but he also remembered the situation with the bathroom cabinet, when she’d rolled her eyes at him for not simply moving her items to a different shelf himself. He wondered if he was, once again, making a big deal out of something completely ordinary, simply because he had so little experience with women.

He heard her footsteps in the hall, and he realized that he would have to make a decision. If she came in here and he asked her to move her own clothes to the drier, she might get annoyed at him again, so he decided to open the washer and started moving the damp clothes into the drier. A piece of underwear fell to the floor, and he picked it up, suddenly unsure if perhaps it was too delicate for the drier and he shouldn’t put it in. While he was still hesitating, she walked into the room, and her eyebrows shot up as she saw him standing there, holding her underwear. He quickly dropped it.

“What are you doing?” she asked him suspiciously.

He felt himself go red – why, _why_ was every interaction he had with her such a disaster?

“I… I wanted to do laundry too,” he tried to explain, “and your clothes were still in the machine.”

“Why didn’t you just come get me?”

“I wanted to be polite,” he mumbled.

“By looking at my underwear?”

He wished the ground would just open up and swallow him.

“I wasn’t sure if I should put it in the drier or not.”

She bent down to pick up the fallen item, shooting him another suspicious look as she did so.

“You don’t get to touch my stuff, do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said quickly.

“Good. Because if I find you holding my underwear again, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t _holding_ it,” he tried, but the fact was that he very much _had_ been holding it, and he didn’t know how to explain to her that his intentions had been innocent. “It just fell on the floor.”

She gave him a look that clearly said that she didn’t believe him, then she threw the piece of underwear in the drier, pushed the button to start it, and walked out of the room. He was left to put his own clothes into the washer, still red in the face, angry at his own awkwardness. _Well done,_ he told himself. Combine this with walking in on her in the bathroom, and by now she must be thinking that he was some kind of pervert.

The encounter in the laundry room didn’t make him any more keen to leave his room, so he stayed inside of it as much as possible, but he still bumped into her regularly in the hallway or the kitchen, and she never seemed disposed to be friendly. He wished he could avoid her altogether, but the house wasn’t big and he did need to get food, do laundry, use the bathroom. When he entered the kitchen a few days after the laundry incident and he saw that she was in there, he almost turned and left, but she had her back to him and she was wearing earphones, probably listening to music, and she didn’t seem to have noticed him. He decided he’d just quickly grab some fruit from the counter behind her and get out again. The kitchen was small, however, and when he turned to leave, he accidentally brushed his elbow against her back.

Before he knew what was happening, she had turned around, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him against the wall with a crash that made him gasp in pain.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?!” she yelled.

He didn’t try to resist, didn’t try to push her off – he just stayed perfectly still, even though the way she was twisting his injured arm was agony.

“I’m sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You don’t touch me! _Ever._ Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes”, he said quietly. “Yes, of course.”

To his relief, she let him go. He tried not to wince as he turned around and rolled his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, but she was still angry.

“Save it,” she snapped. “Go away.”

He quickly picked up the fruit he’d dropped, then hurried out of the kitchen.

…

The instant he was out of the room, Raquel leaned back against the kitchen counter and pressed shaking hands to her face. Her heart was still racing frantically, and it took several minutes for it to slow down to a normal rhythm. Once she was calm again, she could only conclude, to her embarrassment, that she’d overreacted quite dramatically. He’d merely bumped into her, probably by accident, and she’d slammed him into the wall face-first. It was just that he’d startled her so badly – she hadn’t heard that he was in the room, and after… after everything that had happened with Alberto, she’d noticed that she’d become extremely sensitive to being touched, especially if she didn’t want to be. She now had to face the fact that she’d also become more jumpy than she’d been before, which, she told herself sternly, wasn’t a good quality for a police officer. She should pull herself together.

She realized that he hadn’t resisted for even a second as she was twisting his arm. He hadn’t fought back, hadn’t tried to shake her off – he’d just held still until she released him again, even though she must have been hurting him. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. The poor guy was still recovering from some pretty bad injuries, and she hadn’t exactly been gentle with him. She realized with a sinking feeling that she should probably go check on him to make sure that he wasn’t too hurt, and that she should apologize for her behavior. It was about the last thing she wanted to do, but it was the right thing, so she took a deep breath, pushed herself away from the kitchen counter, and went upstairs to find him.

She knocked on his door, then waited until he opened it.

“Can we talk?” she said. “In the living room?”

He nodded and followed her down the stairs, and they sat down on opposite sides of the table. As she looked at him, Raquel once again noticed that there was something about him that she didn’t like, something that put her on edge, but to her annoyance she couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was. He was looking at her questioningly, though, so she pushed the thought away and said:

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” he said. “At least, not any more than I already was.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.”

He shook his head.

“No, I shouldn’t have touched you. Please know that I didn’t mean to.”

“You just startled me by sneaking up on me like that.”

“I’m sorry. Again, I didn’t mean to.”

She accepted his apology with a nod.

“I’m just a little jumpy. You see… some men in your position might try to take advantage of the situation we’re in.”

He gave her a horrified look.

“Really, Inspector, I wouldn’t even _think_ …”

She gave him a weak smile.

“I believe you. Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

“I won’t ever touch you again”, he said in a low voice.

“Thank you”, she said.

Then she heaved a deep sigh.

“Salva, I think it’s clear by now that we’re not particularly compatible as roommates.”

He looked down.

“Yes, I understand what you mean. Are you… are you leaving?”

“No,” she said, a touch of bitterness in her voice, “I don’t have that option.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“What if we drew up a schedule for the shared spaces?” she said. “For example, you can use the bathroom from eight to eight-thirty, and then I’ll use it from eight-thirty to nine. That way we won’t bump into each other all the time.”

He looked up, a clear expression of relief on his face.

“Yes, that would be fine for me.”

“We can have a similar arrangement for the kitchen, laundry room, and living room.”

“You can have the living room,” he said quickly. “I’ll just stay in my room.”

“Alright,” she nodded.

“Perhaps you could also draw up a roster for cleaning activities?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “that’s a good idea. And I’ll put a list on the kitchen counter for groceries. You can just write on that what you want from the store, and I’ll text it to Ramírez.”

“Good, thank you.”

“Alright,” she said, “then I think living together will go more smoothly from now on.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Let’s hope so.”

He got up, not looking at her.

“I’ll go back to my room. Have a good evening, Inspector.”

“You too,” she said.

She watched him go and felt relieved that they’d been able to come to such a clean, functional arrangement. From now on, if all went well, they would never have to interact again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd post on Sundays, but today is an exception :) I'm posting a day early today at special request, for SerquelLover's birthday. Happy birthday my friend! 🥳🥳🥳
> 
> A big thank you to Loreak, notprincehamlet and Bucanek for reading this chapter and giving me feedback! 💗
> 
> And a big thank you to thegirloverseas, for beta reading, for helping me every step of the way, and for generally being the best 💗
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! 💗

There was no denying it: she had to face the fact that she was miserable. She’d only been in this house for three weeks, but it already felt like an eternity. All days were the same, blending into each other in their mind-numbing monotony until it was all a blur and time had lost all meaning. The anger that had kept her going at first was not sustainable over the long term, and as it faded over the days, more troubling emotions took its place. She started feeling a dark, hopeless sense of inevitability – her life had been so awful over the past few years, why had she thought that it could get better again? Maybe she should just resign herself to the situation, maybe she wasn’t meant for better things. Who was she to think that she somehow had the _right_ to a good life? A voice sounded in her mind, the voice that she heard every night in her nightmares, saying that maybe she even _deserved_ to be here. She tried to push those thoughts away when they arose, but they kept coming back, stronger with each passing day, and it became harder and harder to resist them.

The only thing that gave her something to hold on to was the schedule that she’d agreed upon with Salva, which meant that she had to keep to certain times to shower and cook, and she was grateful for the structure it gave to her day. The schedule worked well – she had barely caught more than a glimpse of Salva since they’d implemented it, and they hadn’t spoken at all. She told herself that that was a good thing, because at least it meant that they didn’t have to have any more awkward encounters, but after a while she had to admit to herself that she was deeply, achingly lonely. Now that her anger was fading, she was starting to feel that she could have handled things with Salva better those first few days, but there was nothing to be done about that now. She called her mother every evening, but those conversations were short because Raquel had nothing to say. The high point of her week had become the weekly visit from Ramírez to drop off their groceries, because it meant that she got to talk to an actual person face to face, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Ramírez also called the house every day at five p.m. to check in on them. He was very punctual about it – Raquel got into the habit of waiting by the phone around that time, because it always rang at five exactly. Therefore, she immediately noticed when one day, it didn’t. She frowned and sat down next to the phone, waiting for it to ring, but the minutes crept by, and still there was no call from Ramírez. Finally, at ten past five, she concluded that he must have forgotten somehow, so she decided to call _him_ instead. To her dismay, there was no answer – the phone just kept ringing until the voicemail message came on. She tried again, and again, but the result was the same, and a feeling of dread was beginning to manifest in her stomach. This wasn’t good.

She put down the phone and considered the possibilities. Quite likely there was a very mundane reason for why Ramírez wasn’t answering his phone – maybe he’d lost track of time, or he was busy with something else – but there was also the possibility, however remote, that Ortega had gotten to him somehow… and that meant that their location might be compromised, and that armed men could show up at their door at any minute. As long as she didn’t hear from Ramírez to confirm that everything was okay, she couldn’t take any risks. She knew what she had to do.

…

Sergio spent much of his days sleeping. It had started with a daily nap, just because he felt that his healing body needed it, but there was nothing else to do, and soon he spent more and more time asleep during the day. It meant that he usually wasn’t very tired at night, but then he just took a sleeping pill. He’d lost all interest in things – he didn’t want to read, or play chess, or watch TV, and he often forgot to eat for days on end. He wasn’t even thinking about escaping anymore – it was no use – he just wanted to sleep, to forget the situation he was in. When he was awake, he spent most of his time lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the circumstances that had led up to things going so horribly wrong, and imagining all the things he could have said or done that would have led to a different outcome. Over and over, he came to the same conclusion: it was all his fault. If it hadn’t been for him, for his arrogance, his impatience, none of this would have happened, and the guilt was crushing. Sleep was a relief.

He was sleeping as usual when a sudden knock on his door woke him up with a start.

“Salva?” the Inspector’s voice sounded outside. “Come out, we have a situation.”

He scrambled out of bed, his mind still foggy, and opened the door.

“What kind of situation?”

“Ramírez isn’t picking up his phone. I think we should go into the panic room until we hear from him, just to be safe.”

The fog immediately cleared from his mind. He swallowed.

“Is… is that really necessary?”

“I’m not risking it. If Ortega got to Ramírez, I’d rather be safe in the panic room when his men show up.”

He didn’t like the thought of the panic room at all, but he couldn’t argue with her reasoning – of course it was better to be safe. So he nodded and followed her down the stairs to the hallway, where she opened the heavy steel door and gestured inside.

“Go ahead.”

He had to steel himself as he saw again how small the space was, and he stepped inside with the utmost reluctance. She got in after him, and he had to force down a rising feeling of panic as she closed the door behind them and his thoughts were suddenly flooded with vivid memories. _The scream of tearing metal, blood everywhere, and he couldn’t breathe…_

Her voice pulled him back into the present.

“Are you okay?” she frowned at him. “You look really pale.”

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

She was giving him a scrutinizing look.

“When was the last time you ate?”

He tried to remember, but he’d been sleeping so much that he couldn’t distinguish between the days anymore.

“Maybe… two days ago?”

She shook her head at him in a disapproving way.

“Well then sit down, before you faint.”

He carefully lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall, having to keep his knees pulled up because the space wasn’t big enough for him to stretch his legs. She settled herself on the ground next to him, but against the opposite wall, so they were facing each other. They were very close together, but he was careful not to touch her – not after what had happened last time. He kept taking deep breaths, trying to keep the crowding memories at bay.

“What… what happens if Ramírez doesn’t call at all tonight?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

“If we haven’t heard from him in an hour, I’ll call the local police for backup,” she said, holding up her cellphone. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll have to move to a different location.”

An hour. He just had to keep himself together for an hour, he should be able to do that – but he could feel his heart beating frantically, and he was beginning to sweat. It seemed like the walls were closing in on him, so he closed his eyes. _An ear-splitting crash, and then he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe…_

“Seriously, you don’t look good.”

Once again, her voice cut through the memories, and he opened his eyes again to see her frowning at him in concern.

“Should I go get you something to eat?”

He shook his head.

“I… I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” she asked.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes.

“Apparently.”

“What do you mean, ‘apparently’? Don’t you know if you’re claustrophobic or not?”

“I… I didn’t used to be…” he said. “Before.”

“Oh,” she said. “Before the accident, you mean?”

He nodded, struggling against the memories that were threatening to drown him.

“Are you having flashbacks?” she asked.

He nodded again.

There was a slight pause, then she said in a careful tone:

“Do you… want to tell me what happened? Talking about it might help.”

He looked at her, and she was looking back at him with a calm, steady expression, so different from the annoyance and anger he’d always felt in her before. Her offer to talk seemed genuine.

“I know you were in a car accident when you were driving away from the murder scene,” she prompted him, “but I don’t know more than that. Why did you crash?”

He winced as he felt the bullet hit his shoulder again, tearing its way through muscle and sinew, the pain of it shockingly hot.

“I was shot,” he managed to say, touching his left shoulder. “Just a flesh wound, but it… it hurt.”

She nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“I had stayed in the car, you see, while my… my associate went to deal with Ortega.”

_Stay here. I’ll be right back._ He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.

“So when his men fired at me, I was able to drive away. I only managed to drive a few streets, though. Then… then I lost consciousness, and I must have hit something.”

“Right,” she said. “I remember from your report that your car spun onto the other lane and you were hit by an oncoming car. Right?”

_The sudden screeching of tires, jerking him back to consciousness – metal and glass tearing into him, and he could feel his ribs break._

“I couldn’t get out,” he whispered. “I tried but… I couldn’t. I… I had to wait for the fire department to get there.”

She grimaced.

“That meant that you must have been trapped in that car for at least fifteen minutes. I’m sorry Salva, that must have been terrible. No wonder you’re feeling claustrophobic now.”

_He was stuck and he couldn’t breathe… he couldn’t breathe…_

He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back against the wall, struggling to take a breath.

“It’s alright,” she said, and there was a gentleness in her voice that he hadn’t heard there before. “They’re just flashbacks, they’re not real. You’re not there anymore. You’re here. You’re safe.”

He held on to the sound of her voice, the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Focus on your body,” he heard her say. “Feel how your weight is pressing down on the floor.”

He suddenly became aware of the ground beneath him, cold and hard.

“Feel the air around you – is it hot or cold?”

He hadn’t noticed before how the air in here was rather chilly, but he noticed it now, and it was pulling him into the present.

“Rub your fingers over your shirt, feel the texture of the fabric.”

He did as she said, and the tight feeling in his chest lessened just a fraction.

“Now open your eyes. Tell me what you see.”

He blinked his eyes open and looked around the room, not focusing on how small it was, but on the individual features.

“I… I see a sink, and a toilet, and a lightbulb.”

“Good. What else do you see?”

He turned his eyes on her.

“I see you.”

She gave him a slight smile.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re here with me, you’re not back there anymore. Now tell me what you hear.”

“Just… just your voice.”

“And what do you smell?”

He took a deep breath.

“Your perfume.”

“Well done. How do you feel now?”

“Better,” he realized to his surprise. “It’s… it’s more manageable now.”

She smiled again.

“Good. Now next time you have a flashback like that, you know what to do: focus on your senses, that will ground you in the present. Describe out loud what you feel, what you see, what you smell…”

She abruptly stopped talking, and her eyes went wide.

“Oh!”

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“No, it’s not important, I just realized something.”

“What did you realize?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but… right from the start there was something about you that… that bothered me.”

He looked at her, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, whenever you were close to me, there was something that made me feel uncomfortable.”

He tried to inch a little further away from her, but there was no room.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I know,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault. I just now realized what the problem is: you wear the same cologne as my ex-husband.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yes, I see how that might carry negative associations.”

“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t realize it before because I don’t think you wear much of it, but I must have picked up on it subconsciously. Now that we’re in this small space and we were focusing on our senses, it suddenly hit me.”

“I won’t wear it anymore,” he quickly assured her.

“Thank you,” she said, seeming relieved. “I’d appreciate that.”

There was a short pause, but the painful memories were still there in the back of his mind, waiting to pounce again, and he didn’t want to stop talking, so he asked the first thing that came to mind.

“So… you’re divorced?”

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she was going to say that he should mind his own business, but then she sighed and said:

“Almost. We’re still in the middle of the proceedings.”

“I see,” he said. “I… I imagine that that must be hard.”

She shrugged, and he could see that she didn’t want to discuss it any further. He still wanted to keep talking, though.

“Can I ask… do you have children?”

“No. They wouldn’t give this kind of assignment to someone who had children, because I can’t go home during the weekends.”

“Why can’t you?” he said. “Now that I think of it – you’ve been here non-stop for three weeks now. Don’t you ever get a day off?”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a reason for that, but I shouldn’t tell you, it’s classified.”

He raised his eyebrows and vaguely gestured at their surroundings.

“I mean… who would I tell?”

She considered this, then nodded.

“Alright. I suppose you have a right to know. I gather that Ramírez told you something about what happened to the last witnesses who were willing to testify against Ortega?”

“He said the last witness was found and shot, yes.”

“That happened to the last _two_ witnesses,” she clarified.

He didn’t like that information at all.

“Ramírez didn’t mention that.”

“That’s because what happened to the second witness is a source of embarrassment to the police, so the information has been made classified and we’re not supposed to talk about it. You see, the first witness was just in the regular witness protection program. He was found and killed, so they were more careful with the second witness. He received police protection, just like you.”

His eyebrows went up.

“And he still got killed?”

“Yes. You see, they had two officers guarding him, taking turns on alternate weeks. That meant that they went home every other week, and that’s how Ortega got to one of them. I don’t know if he used threats or promises, but he managed to convince the officer to give up the address of the safe house… and gone was our second witness.”

Sergio grimaced.

“That’s bad.”

“I know. So this time they’re not taking any risks, and I’m not allowed to go home. As long as I stay in the safe house with you, Ortega can’t get to me, and I can’t betray you.”

He needed a moment to process what that meant.

“So… so if this case drags out, will you just have to stay here indefinitely?”

“No, I’m here for six months tops. Then they’ll move you to a different location and assign you a different officer who will have to stay with you all the time.”

“I see.”

He pondered this for a while, but then something suddenly occurred to him.

“What about Ramírez, then? He knows where I am, and he lives at home.”

She nodded.

“We couldn’t avoid that. _Somebody_ needs to know where we are, in order to check in on us and bring us groceries, and to fill in for me in case I need to leave for some reason, or if I fall ill.”

“Then why can’t he just take over from you during the weekends?”

“Because that’s not his job. He’s the handler for all the people who are in the witness protection program around here, he can’t spend too much time on one person. Believe me, I’m the first person to admit that this isn’t a great arrangement, but your situation is rather unique, you know. We don’t have a protocol in place for this kind of thing, so my boss had to improvise, and this is what he came up with.”

He shook his head.

“I still feel like you should get weekends off.”

She shot him an amused look.

“You really want to get rid of me, huh?”

He felt himself go red.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that! It just seems unfair to you, that you’re stuck in this house for such a long time. Especially since you said that it isn’t your regular job.”

“No,” she said, “it isn’t.”

He was curious as to why she was here then, but he’d asked her that once before, and she’d told him it was none of his business, so he didn’t want to ask her again. She seemed to notice his questioning look, though, because she sighed and said:

“I did something I shouldn’t have done, and I’m being punished for it. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

“Anyway,” she said, steering the conversation back to where they’d veered off topic, “we tried to limit the risk connected to Ramírez. His name is nowhere in your file, and yours is nowhere in _his_ file, so it would be very difficult for Ortega to figure out that he’s connected to your case. But you understand that I’m still worried now that he’s not picking up his phone.”

“Yes,” he said. “I understand.”

They fell silent, and he suddenly realized that this was the first time in weeks that he’d spoken even a word to another person, and how much of a relief it was to be able to talk for a bit now. He was used to spending most of his days in silence, but he’d never been quite this isolated before, and he hadn’t been aware of how much he’d missed it – the simple act of connecting to another person through talking – the therapeutic effects of sharing your thoughts with someone else, robbing them of some of their power to hurt. Suddenly, absurdly, he was _glad_ that they were in this tiny room together. She was currently the only person in the world whom he could talk to, and he was grateful for their short conversation, even if it had come about through unfortunate circumstances. He didn’t know when he’d have the chance to talk to her again, so he decided to make the most of it now.

He had just opened his mouth to ask her another question, when they heard the sound of the phone ringing in the living room. The Inspector looked up, a clear expression of relief on her face.

“That must be Ramírez.”

“Are you going to go out to answer it?”

“No,” she said, “I’m not opening that door until I’ve talked to him and I know everything’s safe. I’ll call him back from my cellphone.”

“Good idea,” he nodded.

They waited for the phone in the living room to stop ringing, then she dialed their handler’s number.

“Miguel?” she said. “Is everything alright?”

There was a pause as she listened to him, then she nodded.

“Okay, I understand. No, no problem at all, these things happen. Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow with the groceries.”

She hung up the phone and turned to Sergio.

“He had to take a new witness to a safe house today,” she said. “He’d planned to call us on the way there, but his phone battery died. I knew it was probably a simple explanation like that.”

He nodded, yet he noticed that she still looked quite relieved.

“I’m glad it was nothing more serious,” he said.

“Me too. Now let’s get out of here.”

They got up and she opened the door. Once they were outside again, she gave him a slightly embarrassed look.

“I’m sorry for dragging you in there and putting you through those flashbacks for nothing, Salva.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I think you made the right call.”

They looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or do now. Should they just… go their separate ways again? She seemed to think so, because she shook herself and said:

“I think I’ll go make something to eat now.”

“Alright,” he said, but when she turned to go into the kitchen, he called after her.

“Inspector?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” he said, looking for the right words. “Thank you. For… for talking to me in there.”

She shook her head, and he thought he could see a slight sadness in her eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” she said softly. “I know what it’s like.”

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling as he watched her walk away – he only knew that he didn’t want her to go. The thought of returning to his room and complete isolation was terribly unappealing, but he told himself sternly that he couldn’t force his company on her just because he was lonely. And yet it was so strange – they lived in this tiny house together, but because of their agreed-upon schedule, who knew when they would see each other next? He sighed and tried not to think about it as he slowly turned and walked back up the stairs.

Only an hour later, however, there was a knock on his door. He looked up in surprise from the book he was reading, then opened the door to see the Inspector standing there again.

“I’d like you to come down,” was all she said, then she turned and walked down the stairs.

He hurried after her.

“What happened now?”

“Nothing.”

Puzzled, he followed her into the living room, where she gestured him to a chair by the table.

“Sit.”

He sat down, looking after her with a feeling of bewilderment as she disappeared into the kitchen. His eyebrows went up as she came out again with a plate of food and put it down in front of him.

“Now eat.”

He shot her a look.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to cook for me?”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. “I just had some leftovers.”

He looked down at the food, but it was perfectly clear to him that these weren’t leftovers – it was a full extra portion of risotto.

“You didn’t have to,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Apparently I did,” she said drily. “You don’t seem to be doing a great job of feeding yourself. But this is a one-time thing, do you understand? Don’t start expecting this every day.”

“Of course,” he hastened to say. “I understand.”

“Good.”

He looked up at her.

“Thank you.”

She gave him a slight smile.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I hope you’ll like it.”

He watched her smile, noticing how it softened her, and suddenly he felt an impulse to ask her if she wanted to join him, but the next moment she said:

“I’ll let you eat in peace. Don’t forget to clean up after yourself.”

“I won’t,” he assured her.

As he watched her walk away for the second time that day, he almost called her back, but then he shook himself and turned his attention to the food. It smelled wonderful, and he suddenly noticed how desperately hungry he was. He picked up his knife and fork and started to eat, savoring every bite – he’d been eating only fruit and bread when he’d been eating at all, and he’d forgotten how good a warm meal could taste. He finished every last bite, after which he felt warm and full, and sleepy in a good way.

As he washed his plate in the kitchen, he realized that, despite the difficult moments in the panic room earlier today, he felt better now than he had in weeks, and he knew that it was thanks to his interactions with her. She’d always seemed so angry before, quick to get annoyed at him, but he’d seen a different side of her today – compassionate and kind. He suspected that she might be a nice person in different circumstances, and he thought that it was too bad that he wouldn’t have a chance to get to know her better. As he went up to his room again, he tried not to think of the following days, and the loneliness they would inevitably bring. Today had been a good day, and that was what he would focus on right now. Small mercies. He was grateful for small mercies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I want to thank everyone who's left a comment! 💗💗💗 They make my day 🥰
> 
> A big thank you to notprincehamlet and Bucanek for test-reading and giving feedback! 💗
> 
> For this particular chapter, I have to give a special thank you to Loreak. She pointed out some flaws in the writing and helped me to make the chapter better. Thank you! 💗
> 
> And as always, a big thank you to thegirloverseas, for her unwavering support and for her help with every possible aspect of this story. I don't know what I'd do without her 💗
> 
> And thank you all for reading! 😘😘😘

Raquel woke up in the early hours of the morning from a particularly bad nightmare, sweating, her heart racing almost painfully, and it took her a while to realize where she was and that she was safe. She took a few deep, calming breaths, but she still felt halfway stuck in the dream, so she switched on the light and used the same technique she’d helped Salva with in the panic room yesterday: focusing on her senses, looking around the room to note the window, the closet, the mirror, then shifting her attention to the bed beneath her back, the firmness of the mattress, the texture of the sheets. Slowly but surely, she grounded herself back into the present.

When the exercise was done, she rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. She was so sick of these nightmares. They seemed to have gotten worse since she had come to this house, and she suspected that that was because this perpetual low-grade feeling of danger that she had, this constant waiting for something bad to happen, reminded her so strongly of how she’d felt that last year and a half with Alberto. She reflected how strange it was that she had never dreamt about the abuse while it was going on, but once it was over, she had to relive the worst of it night after night. It didn’t seem fair. She just wanted to forget about it, and she resented that it was still such a constant presence in her life, making her lose sleep, keeping her feeling permanently tired.

She knew she should try to sleep a few more hours, but she could feel the nightmares lurking at the edge of her consciousness, just waiting for her to let her guard down, and she couldn’t face any more of them tonight. Cursing her brain for doing this to her, she swung her legs out of bed and got up to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet around her, still feeling like an utterly unfamiliar space – even after three weeks, she just couldn’t get used to living here. After she filled a glass with water and drank it, she returned to her room to sit on the edge of her bed, and wondered what to do now. What she really wanted was company – someone to talk to, to drive away the lingering memories with conversation and human warmth – but she didn’t have that option.

The feeling lasted throughout the day, as the sun came up and she tried to keep herself busy. Several times, she caught herself hoping that Salva would come down so maybe they could talk a little, but he didn’t appear. After their conversation in the panic room yesterday, she was starting to suspect that she might have judged him too harshly when she’d decided that first week that he was weird and unfriendly. For her part, she hadn’t exactly been in a mood to see the best in people, and for his part – well, after yesterday, she knew that he was pretty traumatized by what he’d been through, and she knew what trauma could do to people. She now realized that they had probably gotten off to such a terrible start in the beginning because they’d both been in such a bad place, and she rather found herself wishing that they could start over somehow.

Having had an actual conversation with him yesterday had emphasized how painfully lonely she was feeling and how nice it was to be able to talk to someone, even a stranger like him. She realized that she wasn’t dealing well with being alone – she just needed other people, and since he was the only other person in the house, she was rather regretting the implementation of the schedule that was keeping them completely isolated now. At a certain point, she considered going up to his room to knock at his door and ask him if, perhaps, they could try and see if they could have some sort of contact after all – but she wasn’t sure if he wanted that, and she didn’t want to create any more awkwardness between them. A small voice at the back of her mind told her that _of course_ he wouldn’t want to spend time with her, so she stayed downstairs and tried to focus on her book.

In the afternoon, the lack of sleep finally caught up with her and she started having trouble keeping her eyes open. She usually tried not to nap during the day, but it wasn’t like there was anything else to do, so she went up to her room and got into bed. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, and for once, the nightmares left her alone. When she woke up again, she felt refreshed for the first time in weeks, and she realized that she’d slept longer than she’d intended to – her stomach was growling with hunger. She got out of bed, her mind on what she could make for dinner, but when she opened her bedroom door, she noticed to her surprise that there was already a smell of food coming from the kitchen. For a moment, she felt pleased – apparently Salva had finally decided to start feeding himself properly – but then she realized that it meant that she would have to wait her turn to use the kitchen, and she was really hungry.

She went downstairs anyway, thinking that perhaps he wouldn’t mind if she just asked him how he was doing after yesterday, hoping to get at least a few seconds of conversation. When she entered the living room, however, she saw that the table was set for two, and her eyebrows went up. What was this? She turned to see him coming out of the kitchen with a steaming pot of something that smelled pretty good.

“Oh,” he said when he saw her. “Hi. I was just going to come up and see if you were hungry.”

She stared at him.

“Are you saying that… you cooked for me?”

He put the pot down on the table and gave her an uncertain look.

“Well… you cooked for me yesterday. It seemed only fair that I return the favor.”

Maybe she really _had_ judged him too harshly.

“That’s… that’s really nice of you.”

He gave her a slight smile.

“You seem surprised.”

“No,” she said quickly, but then she amended, “or actually… well… yes, a little. I didn’t think you could cook.”

He gave her a slightly embarrassed look.

“I can’t, really,” he said in a confidential tone. “This is the only dish I really know how to make.”

He gestured at a chair.

“Please, sit down.”

She sat, feeling surprised but pleased at this unexpected turn of events. He stayed standing and gave her a questioning look.

“Would you… would you mind if I joined you?”

“Of course not,” she said. “After all, you did the cooking.”

“I could also just take a plate up to my room,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“No,” she said, “you’re not bothering me.”

He sat down, still looking rather uncertain, and she suddenly felt a stab of guilt about the way she had treated him before.

“Salva,” she said, leaning forward in her chair, “I think I owe you an apology.”

He looked up in surprise.

“What for?”

She sighed.

“I wasn’t exactly friendly to you those first few days we were here. I’m sorry. It’s just that I really wasn’t happy about having to be here, and I was in a bad mood.”

“I understand,” he said. “You don’t need to apologize. I didn’t exactly make a good first impression either.”

She thought back to those first few days, and suddenly the things she’d seen as unacceptable behavior then just seemed like accidents to her now. She just hadn’t been willing to see them that way because of her own issues. She felt rather ashamed of herself.

“Can we… can we maybe forget about what happened and start again?” she asked him carefully.

He looked at her, then he nodded.

“I’d like that.”

“Good,” she said, relieved. “After all, we might be here for quite a while, and it’s not a nice feeling to have to avoid each other all the time.”

“I agree.”

There was a short silence, in which they looked at each other, and she wondered where to go from here. Finally he pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat.

“I… I didn’t put on any cologne today. I hope that helps.”

She suddenly realized that the uneasy feeling she’d always had around him was completely gone.

“Yes,” she said, relieved. “It’s much better, thank you.”

He gave her a tentative smile.

“Good. I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable.”

She considered him for a moment, wondering again how much of her initial bad opinion of him had simply been due to the circumstances – the cologne, the anger she’d felt, and the unfortunate incidents in the bathroom and the laundry room . She decided that it was a good thing that they were starting over, so she could form a less prejudiced opinion of him.

Then her stomach growled, bringing her attention back to the food, and she curiously peered into the pot.

“What did you make?”

“Just some pasta,” he said apologetically. “With a simple tomato sauce. A _very_ simple tomato sauce.”

“Well, it smells good,” she said, picking up the spoon and putting some on her plate.

“I hope it’s not too bad,” he said.

She took a careful bite, wondering if she’d have to lie to him to spare his feelings, but the sauce was actually pretty good. She smiled at him.

“It’s not bad at all.”

They focused on the food for a while. She sensed that they were both willing to make this meal a positive experience, but they didn’t know each other, and the silence was rather awkward. He was looking down at his plate, pushing the food around with his fork more than actually eating it. She kept glancing at him, trying to get a sense of what kind of person he was now that her judgment wasn’t so clouded anymore. Based on the fact that he had cooked for her tonight, she concluded that he seemed like a decent person on the whole – he was just a little awkward. As she was observing him, she noticed that he looked thinner than when she first met him, but he was still rather attractive, in a school teacher kind of way, with his glasses and his shirt and tie. She wondered why he was wearing a tie when this wasn’t exactly a formal situation – in fact, she’d never seen him without a tie. She also noticed that the cut he’d had on his cheek was almost fully healed now, though he would probably always keep the scar.

“How are your injuries?” she spoke into the silence.

He looked up, seeming surprised that she would ask.

“Not bad. I’ve been sleeping a lot, and I think they’re healing as well as could be hoped.”

She noticed how his hand went to his injured shoulder in a seemingly unconscious gesture.

“Are you still in pain?”

He shrugged, carefully.

“My broken ribs are still a little tender, and I still have to be careful when I use my left arm, but on the whole I’m not in pain anymore.”

“I’m glad,” she said.

They fell silent again, a longer silence than before, and even more awkward. The sound of the ticking clock on the wall punctuated the silence as Raquel cast around for something to say. She usually didn’t have this much trouble to keep a conversation going, but she wasn’t really sure what to say to him – after all, she knew absolutely nothing about him. She decided that she should probably remedy that.

“So… what do you do for a living?”

He looked up, his expression guarded.

“I… uhm… I’m a planner, of sorts.”

“What kind of things do you plan?”

“Well…” he hesitated, and she suddenly remembered why he was here, wearing an ankle monitor.

“Ah,” she said. “The kind of things I’d have to arrest you for if you told me?”

“Maybe,” he said carefully, and she nodded.

“Then let’s avoid that topic.”

“That would probably be best.”

She turned back to her food with a sinking feeling. He seemed so harmless that she’d forgotten for a moment that he was a convicted criminal, and she wondered if perhaps it was a bad idea to try and make friends with him after all. In the end, he was a criminal and she was a cop – they weren’t supposed to be friends.

They finished their meal in silence, and she was just thinking that she should go back up to her room and just resign herself to silence and loneliness, when he suddenly said:

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

She leaned back in her chair.

“Alright...”

He hesitated.

“It’s just that… you told me you’re divorced and you don’t have any children, so I was wondering… who do you call every night?”

She gave him a long look, considering if she wanted to tell him, but then some resistance inside of her gave way.

“I call my mother every night,” she said quietly. “She… has Alzheimer’s and I like to make sure that she’s okay.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that. That… that must be hard on you.”

She looked down at her plate.

“It’s not easy.”

“Does she have someone to take care of her?”

“My sister.”

“That’s good. Then you don’t have to worry.”

She pressed her lips together.

“I suppose. Though I’d rather still take care of her myself.”

There was a short pause as he considered her, then he said softly:

“I’m sorry you’re stuck here.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Me too. I mean… I knew beforehand that it wouldn’t be fun, but I hadn’t expected it to be this awful.”

“I know what you mean,” he said in a low voice.

They shared a look, and she suddenly felt that they understood each other.

“What’s the worst of it for you?” she asked him on an impulse.

He sighed.

“Not having anything to do,” he said. “For the past twenty years, I’ve been working on a… a project, of sorts, and now I can’t anymore. I feel like I’ve lost my purpose.”

She nodded, knowing better by now than to ask him about his project.

“I get that,” was all she said.

“What’s the worst of it for you?”

“The inactivity is bad,” she agreed. “But I think the worst for me is… well… the loneliness.”

He looked at her, then he cleared his throat.

“Look… I… I know I’m not the kind of company you want, but…”

She looked up, feeling suddenly hopeful.

“What do you propose?”

“What if we had dinner together once a week?”

That was nice of him, especially since she wasn’t sure if he actually _wanted_ to have dinner with her or if he was just being kind because she’d said she was lonely. Either way, she appreciated it. Dinner once a week wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and at least it would give her something to look forward to. She nodded.

“On Sundays?” she suggested.

“That’s good for me,” he said. “And I’ll stay out of your way for the rest of the week.”

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to, but she didn’t want to push it – she had a sense that he valued his privacy, and if tonight was any indication, it would be hard enough to find something to talk about for even just one evening a week.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll cook.”

To her surprise, he shook his head.

“No, that doesn’t seem fair. We can take turns cooking.”

She gave him an amused look.

“Will you just be making this one dish over and over again, then?”

He chuckled.

“I’ll try to branch out a bit. I can practice cooking other things throughout the week.”

“Good,” she said. “Then at least you’ll be eating.”

He went rather red, and another awkward silence fell. Raquel didn’t really want to leave his company yet, but the food was gone and the silence stretched on and on, so she finally decided that they’d run out of things to say and reluctantly got up and started clearing the dishes. He quickly got up too.

“I can do that.”

“No,” she said, “you already did the cooking, I’ll wash up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

For a moment, it looked like he didn’t want to leave either, but when she looked up at him and caught him looking at her, he quickly averted his eyes and said:

“Alright. Then I’ll go back to my room.”

He turned to go, but she stopped him.

“Salva.”

He turned back to her.

“Yes?”

She glanced at the dishes on the table.

“This was very nice of you,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Yes,” she said, trying not to think of the lonely days that stretched emptily between now and then. “Sunday.”

“Goodnight, Inspector.”

She stopped him again.

“You know, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Inspector’.”

“Well,” he said, a little awkwardly, “I don’t know your first name.”

“Oh!” she said, suddenly realizing that Ramírez had, indeed, only introduced her by her last name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. You can call me Raquel.”

There was a funny moment where he opened his mouth as if he wanted to offer her his name in return, but of course she knew his name, so he merely shook himself and said:

“Right. Thank you for telling me.”

She smiled at him.

“Goodnight, Salva.”

He gave her a slight smile in return.

“Goodnight… Raquel.”

…

She didn’t have to wait until Sunday to see him again, though. The very next day, she was reading in the living room when she suddenly noticed a smell of burning coming from the kitchen, so she hurriedly got up and went to see what was happening. She found a thick haze of smoke, and a red-faced Salva scraping the blackened remains of something unidentifiable from a frying pan into the trashcan.

“What happened?” she said, moving to open a window to let out the smoke.

“I was trying something new,” he said. “I think I put the fire too high, and I left the vegetables on while I was reading the instructions on the rice packet.”

He looked so flustered that she took pity on him. She went over and gently took the frying pan from his hands.

“Let’s put this to soak,” she said, turning on the water to fill the sink.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

She considered him for a moment. Her day had been completely uneventful so far, and he seemed rather helpless in the kitchen – perhaps she should give him a hand. She rolled up her sleeves.

“Alright. What are we making?”

He went even redder.

“You don’t have to help me.”

“Apparently I do,” she said, amused, “or you’ll burn the house down.”

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I’m sorry I’m so clueless.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “though I’m curious to know what you usually eat at home. You live alone, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I usually just eat things I can heat up in the microwave. It’s always felt like a waste of time to cook when it’s only me.”

She understood that – she hadn’t cooked much either right after she’d separated from Alberto, and she’d only really started again once her mother moved in. On the whole, though, she enjoyed doing it, and she knew she was a pretty decent cook.

“Well,” she said, “you’re never too old to learn. I can teach you.”

He hesitated.

“Really?”

“If you want,” she said quickly. Maybe he didn’t actually want her around.

“I… I don’t want to impose…”

“You’re not imposing,” she said. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

He was still hesitating.

“But… you made it very clear that you wouldn’t be cooking for me.”

“And I won’t,” she said lightly. “We’ll be cooking together.”

“Alright…” he said, then he gave her a look of determination. “But if you’re helping me cook today, then I’m helping you cook tomorrow.”

She felt ridiculously happy at the thought of having company two days in a row, but she tried not to show it. She merely smiled at him.

“That seems like a fair trade. So, what are we making?”

“Well, I don’t have a phone or a laptop to look up recipes, so I just looked at what we had in the fridge, and I wanted to make chicken and rice with some fried vegetables. I thought that wasn’t beyond my culinary powers, but apparently…”

She chuckled.

“What would you say if we added a curry to the dish? I think otherwise it might be rather dry.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start to make curry.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you,” she said, pulling a pot out of one of the cabinets. “It really isn’t hard. How spicy do you like your food?”

He shrugged.

“It doesn’t really matter to me. Whatever you like.”

“Okay,” she said, taking some spices out of a cupboard. “Let’s make it a little spicy, then.”

She quickly found that they worked rather well together. He followed her instructions exactly, and he kept asking her questions about the things she was doing and the spices she was using. The kitchen was small, and he was clearly taking great care not to accidentally touch her, which she appreciated. Now that they’d had a few normal conversations, and now that he wasn’t wearing that awful cologne anymore, she felt surprisingly at ease around him, and when they were done cooking, she realized that she’d actually enjoyed herself – something she hadn’t thought was possible in this house.

They put the food on the table, and then they stood looking at each other for a moment. She wasn’t sure if he’d want to eat with her. Apparently, he was wondering the same thing.

“Look,” he said before she could say anything. “I know we said we’d only eat together on Sundays, but… we made this together, I feel like we should eat it together. If you want to?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled, and they sat down.

“This is really good,” he said appreciatively after the first bite.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Then he cleared his throat and took a sip of water.

“Is it too spicy?” she asked, a little concerned.

“No, no,” he quickly said. “Not at all.”

But she kept glancing at him as he ate, and she could soon see that he was suffering. He was trying not to show it, but he was making such funny faces that she had to stifle a laugh behind her hand.

“Are you _sure_ it’s not too spicy?” she asked him again.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, though he was turning rather red.

He valiantly continued eating, and she tried really hard to keep a straight face as she watched him, but finally she couldn’t take it anymore and she burst out laughing.

“Salva, stop eating, you’re in pain!”

He laughed too, a little embarrassed.

“Alright, I admit defeat. I can’t believe you can eat that!”

“It’s not _that_ spicy…”

“Raquel, I’m pretty sure there are no more spices left in the entire subcontinent of India, because they’re all in this curry.”

She laughed again.

“You said it didn’t matter to you how spicy I made the curry.”

“And I thought it didn’t, but I didn’t expect you to produce a dish that’s the approximate temperature of the _Sun._ ”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, teasing him. “ _I_ have no problem eating it.”

She put another spoonful in her mouth, and he watched her with admiration.

“You should join the circus,” he said.

“How so?” she said, amused.

“You could be one of those people who eat fire. That must taste rather cool compared to this curry.”

She laughed again – she couldn’t believe how good it felt to laugh. She couldn’t believe that _he_ was making her laugh.

“There’s still some plain rice and chicken left over,” she said. “You can eat that.”

“I think that might be best,” he nodded. “Before I burst into flame. I’m already feeling like I need a cold shower.”

“A good curry will do that,” she smiled.

“It _is_ good,” he said regretfully. “I’d definitely eat more of it if only it wasn’t trying to murder me.”

They kept looking at each other and laughing as they finished their meal, and she could feel how he was more relaxed than he’d been before. Finally he pushed away his plate and said:

“So… what are we making tomorrow?”

She felt quite happy as she remembered that they would be doing this again tomorrow. For one pleasant hour, she had been able to forget the situation they were in and experience something resembling normalcy, and it was a nice thought that the same thing might happen again tomorrow.

“We can make anything you want,” she said. “As long as we have the ingredients.”

“Hmm,” he said, considering. “I’ll have to take advantage of tomorrow, since I only have one cooking lesson left.”

She felt herself deflate a little, thinking about the days after tomorrow, about returning to the silence, the loneliness, the cooking and eating alone. It suddenly seemed unbearable after today’s laughter and companionship.

“Salva,” she said, “what if we cooked together more often?”

He hesitated. “You mean, after tomorrow?”

“You said you wanted to learn.”

He gave her a careful look.

“What about our schedule?”

“Fuck the schedule,” she said, a little surprised by her own vehemence. She decided to just put her cards on the table and be honest with him. “I’ve been miserable, and I don’t think you’ve been very happy either. Today was the first time in weeks that I… that I felt like myself again. If you want to keep to the schedule, of course I understand, but…”

“No,” he said softly. “No, I don’t want to keep to the schedule.”

“Good,” she said, relieved. “Then from now on, we can just try… actually living together. No more rules.”

“No more rules,” he nodded.

She smiled at him, and he gave her a shy smile in return. Suddenly she realized – yes, she was a cop and he was a criminal, but they were also just two people stuck in the same situation, and she felt a sudden wave of empathy as she thought that this must be just as hard on him as it was on her.

“Thank you for saving my dinner,” he said. “I’m glad I’ll have more cooking lessons.”

“Me too,” she said. “It will be good to have something to do.”

He nodded in agreement, then he got up.

“I’ll take care of the dishes tonight. That’s the least I can do.”

She realized that she wasn’t particularly keen to leave his company yet.

“What if we washed them together?” she suggested.

He smiled. “Alright.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up too. “You wash and I’ll dry.”

Something had shifted between them now, and though the conversation didn’t exactly flow easily yet, it went much smoother than yesterday as they did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Raquel had never particularly liked household chores like this, but tonight she found that she didn’t want them to end, and that even something as mundane as washing dishes with someone else could feel like a special occasion if only you were lonely enough. Finally there was nothing left to be done. He lingered in the living room for a bit, as if he didn’t want to be alone either, but just as she was about to ask him if he wanted to stay and talk, he wished her goodnight. So she wished him goodnight in return, and he retreated back up to his room as she settled herself on the couch to watch a movie. When she went to bed a few hours later, she realized that, for the first time since she had come to this house, she wasn’t absolutely dreading tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! 😘 I know the story is building slowly, but I do think the payoff will be worth it 😉
> 
> The lovely heartunderfire has made a Spotify playlist for this story! 🥰 She will add songs as the story progresses. You can find it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1N53LPexFqUKrNl1Lvwvtr?si=kZwIFsLhSDq2cswyL20lCw
> 
> A big thank you to notprincehamlet and Bucanek for proof-reading and giving me encouragement and feedback! 💗
> 
> And a huge thank you to thegirloverseas, who is always so generous with her help, insights, encouragement, support, and friendship 💗
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! 😊

From that point onwards, life in the house became more bearable. Sergio still spent most of his afternoons napping, but he always made sure to wake up by five o’clock at the latest. After he heard the telephone ring for Ramírez’s daily check-in, he’d go down to the kitchen, where Raquel would invariably be waiting for him. Without really discussing it, they had fallen into the habit of cooking together every day, and – completely contrary to his expectations – he discovered that he rather enjoyed the activity. Initially, he’d only agreed to learning how to cook in order to have something, _anything_ , to do, but he’d always loved learning new things, and though that usually applied to books, he found that apparently it could apply to other things as well. He didn’t have a knack for cooking the way she did, so he had to make an effort to memorize exact steps and amounts, and after all those weeks of inactivity, he couldn’t believe how good it felt to have something to do again, even a mundane activity like this.

As they worked together every day, he had a lot of time to observe her, and he could hardly believe that she was the same person she had been when they’d first gotten here. Often when he came down at five, he could still detect some lingering resentment about her day of forced inactivity, but that was usually forgotten once they actually started cooking, and he discovered that he quite liked her company. She never got annoyed at him anymore, even though he frequently messed something up – instead, she reacted with patience and a considerable sense of humor, and he gradually started feeling less awkward around her. As the days passed, he noticed that having something to do and someone to talk to in the evenings was making him feel better overall – he wasn’t sleeping as much anymore, and he was slowly regaining interest in his books and his chess set. And all day long, he looked forward to five o’clock.

One day when he came down, she had some news for him.

“I just got a call from my colleague Elena,” she said. “Or rather, Inspector González to you.”

The name sounded familiar to him.

“Isn’t she the person who’s in charge of the Ortega case?”

“Yes. She was out of town when you were still in the hospital, so she didn’t get a chance to question you herself, and she’d like to do that now.”

He frowned.

“Wait, how would that work?”

“She wants to come visit us on Friday.”

“Can’t she question me over the phone?”

“She said she’d prefer to do it in person.”

“But I thought Ramírez was supposed to be the only person who knew our address.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “that’s still true. That’s why she’ll meet Ramírez at a neutral location about half an hour from here, and he’ll drive her here in a car with blacked-out windows.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“That’s quite an elaborate setup. Do you think she can’t be trusted?”

“No,” Raquel said immediately. “I trust her completely. But we said beforehand that nobody else should know your location, and she’s sticking to that rule.”

“Alright,” he said. “Then it looks like we’ll have company on Friday.”

“Yes,” she said, then she laughed. “I’m ridiculously excited about it. It will be so good to see another person for once, even if it will only be for an hour or so.”

He couldn’t say that he shared her enthusiasm – he wasn’t looking forward to yet another interrogation – but when he noted how happy she looked at the prospect, he couldn’t help but feel pleased on her behalf.

…

He usually stayed in his room for most of the day, but on Friday he felt rather restless, so he wandered down around lunchtime to find Raquel eating a sandwich at the table.

“Hi,” she said as she saw him. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No, thank you,” he said, sitting down opposite her. His appetite hadn’t fully returned yet, and most days he was content just to eat in the evenings. “What time will the Inspector get here?”

“She should be here soon,” she said, then she gave him a closer look. “You seem nervous.”

“Maybe a little.”

There was a short pause as she looked at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. He had noticed over the past few weeks that, now that her bad mood was gone, she was an unusually empathetic and perceptive person, and she had a knack for understanding how he was feeling or what he was thinking without him having to say much. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that – it was both nice and rather unnerving.

She did it again when she said:

“You’re probably not looking forward to having to relive it all again.”

He nodded.

“I usually try not to think about it.”

She considered him for another moment.

“Salva… were you offered any kind of psychiatric help when you were in the hospital?”

“Yes,” he said, “but I declined.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“I’m not very good at talking about… about personal matters. Especially to a stranger.”

He thought that she would tell him that he’d been stupid to refuse the psychiatric assistance, that it would have helped him, but she did nothing of the sort.

“I understand,” she said gently. “Opening up can be scary.”

He nodded. The mere _thought_ of ‘opening up’ made him deeply uncomfortable. Because who knew what would come out if he did? He’d rather keep things inside, where he felt in control of them. All in all, though he didn’t relish the thought of having to recount his story to yet another police officer, he still preferred this to talking to a psychiatrist. At least the cop would only be interested in the facts, and not how he _felt_ about them.

“What kind of person is she?” he asked, steering the conversation back into safer waters. “The Inspector?”

“She’s very straightforward,” Raquel replied, “but don’t let that scare you – she’s nicer than she seems. And one of the most capable people on the force.”

“Are you friends?”

Raquel gave a thoughtful nod.

“Yes, I’d say we’re friends.”

They both looked up as they heard a car pull up outside.

“Looks like they’re here,” Raquel said.

She got up to take her empty plate to the kitchen, and Sergio felt his sense of nervousness increase. He’d been interrogated several times by different officers while he was in hospital, and each time, he had lied about one crucial thing. None of his interrogators had ever seemed to suspect anything – he just hoped that he’d be able to fool this new Inspector too, and that he didn’t accidentally contradict himself. It was more than a month ago now since he made those statements, and he’d been on pain killers at the time, so his memories were a little foggy.

His anxiety increased significantly as he watched the Inspector walk through the door – late thirties, with black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and dark eyes that didn’t look like they missed much – and he immediately realized that she wouldn’t be easy to fool. A moment later, though, he was distracted by the entrance of a second unknown person into the room: a heavy-set man in his forties with glasses and a dark beard. He was just wondering who this was when Raquel emerged from the kitchen and a look of surprise appeared on her face.

“Angel!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Sergio couldn’t really tell if she was pleased to see him or not, but he could definitely tell that she didn’t feel comfortable with the hug the man gave her.

“Raquel,” he said. “It’s so good to see you.”

At that point, though, the Inspector came towards Sergio and he had to switch his attention to her as she held out her hand.

“Inspector González,” she introduced herself, giving him a firm handshake.

“Salvador Martín,” he introduced himself in return.

“I’m here to ask you a few questions,” she said, coming straight to the point as she gestured towards the table. “Shall we sit?”

He nodded and sat down. He’d rather hoped that Raquel would have stayed with him for the interrogation – somehow, he thought he would have felt better about recounting his story if she’d been next to him – but she and the man she’d called Angel were moving to the other side of the living room. He noticed how Angel sat down next to her on the couch instead of taking the chair that was beside it.

“So,” the Inspector said. She had put a recording device on the table between them and pressed ‘record’, but she also opened a notepad and took out a pen. “First things first…”

“Excuse me,” he interrupted her, still looking over at the couch, “but who is that?”

She glanced back.

“That’s Sub-Inspector Rubio,” she said. “He worked with Inspector Murillo on most of her cases before she got transferred here.”

“Okay…” Sergio said. “Uhm… why is he here?”

She gave him a cool look.

“That’s none of your concern. You just need to answer my questions.”

“Yes, of course” he said quickly, turning his attention back to her. He’d need his wits about him if she was going to ask him the questions he thought she’d be asking him. And sure enough, the first question was familiar.

“Why were you meeting with Javier Ortega on the night of the 22nd?”

“He was interested in buying something from us.”

“And what was that?”

He knew that she already knew the answer, but he repeated it anyway.

“Seventeen round-cut diamonds.”

“Were those the diamonds that had been stolen from 31 Calle Santiago two weeks earlier?”

The piercing way she was looking at him was making him sweat. He tried not to show how nervous he was.

“Yes.”

“Were you personally involved in that robbery?”

“No. Though that didn’t stop your colleagues from charging me for it.”

“You weren’t charged for the robbery itself,” she corrected him crisply. “You were charged for possessing and selling stolen goods.”

She made a note on her notepad, and he shot a quick look over at Raquel, who was talking to Angel in a low voice. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw Angel move closer to Raquel, and Raquel subtly shift backwards in response.

“How did you contact Javier Ortega?” the Inspector asked, and he turned back to her.

“We didn’t,” he said. “He contacted us, from a private number. He told us where and when to meet him.”

“So you wouldn’t know how to get in touch with him?”

“No.”

“Had you had dealings with Mr. Ortega before?”

“No.”

“But you knew him?”

“No, I didn’t.”

She gave him a sharp look.

“In a previous interview you stated that you _did_ know Mr. Ortega. Which is it?”

He stumbled trying to correct himself:

“No, I didn’t mean… I meant… I had heard of him, I knew who he was, that’s all.”

She kept looking at him, and he swallowed hard as he tried not to look away.

“Are you sure about that answer, Mr. Martin?” she said softly.

“Yes,” he said decidedly. “I am. I didn’t know Ortega personally before he contacted me.”

She kept her eyes on him for another few seconds, then she seemed to decide to let it go. She bent down to make another note in her notepad, and he glanced over at the couch again, where he saw Angel put his hand on Raquel’s. She immediately pulled it back. Sergio shifted in his chair, and the Inspector looked up, then followed his gaze.

“Please keep your attention on the matter at hand, Mr. Martín,” she said, and he nodded.

“Yes, sorry.”

“What was your relationship to the murdered man?”

“He was an associate.”

“Did you work together often?”

“Once or twice a year.”

“Please describe the night of the murder to me. What did you do?”

Sergio took a deep breath.

“I drove. We… we got to the meeting place before Ortega did. We waited in the car. After a few minutes, two cars arrived from the opposite direction. A number of men got out, all of them armed.”

“How many men?” she interrupted.

“Six, I think.”

“Continue.”

Vivid images were starting to appear before his eyes. The men, walking towards them. The rain, drizzling down in the beam of his headlights. A voice that said: _Stay in the car. I’ll be right back._

He swallowed hard and continued with some difficulty.

“I… I decided to stay in the car. My associate got out and went to meet Ortega. They… they talked for a few minutes, and then… then…”

The expressionless face. The sound of the gunshot. The body hitting the ground.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Martin,” the Inspector said, not unkindly, “but I need you to state clearly what happened. This is the crux of our case.”

“Then Ortega shot him,” Sergio whispered.

She nodded, making more notes.

“You saw this clearly?”

“Yes,” he said, trying hard to push away the image of that exact moment, and the knowledge, the terrible knowledge, that it was all his fault. “Clear as day.”

“Why did Ortega shoot him?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his throat tight. “I have no idea.”

“Alright. What happened afterwards?”

“Ortega gave an order and his men started firing at me. One of the bullets came through the window and… and hit me on the shoulder. Then I managed to drive away.”

There was a pause as she kept writing, and he struggled to push the memories back down – _not now, not now, not now._ As the images receded, he gradually felt himself relax. The hard part was over now, and he seemed to have gotten away with his lie. He glanced back over to the other side of the room, only to see that Raquel had shifted to the very edge of the couch, but Angel had moved along with her and now had his hand on her knee. Even from where he was sitting, Sergio could tell that she was very uncomfortable, and he didn’t like it at all.

The Inspector stopped writing and noticed him looking again. She frowned.

“Mr. Martín, is something bothering you?”

“No,” he said quickly, but then he hesitated, throwing another look over at Raquel. “It’s… it’s just… I think that he’s making her uncomfortable. She doesn’t like to be touched.”

The Inspector turned around in her chair and observed the pair on the couch for a moment. Then she said, in a loud, decisive voice:

“Angel.”

The man looked up and withdrew his hand.

“Yes?”

“I think you should wait in the car with Ramírez.”

“What?” he said. “But I’m talking to Raquel.”

“No,” the Inspector said coolly. “You’re done talking. Go wait in the car.”

There was no arguing with her tone. Angel threw a look at Raquel, clearly hoping that she would intervene on his behalf, but she said nothing. Finally he got up and said:

“Well… Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye, Angel,” Raquel said. “If you have any more questions about those open cases, just e-mail me.”

“Alright,” he said. “I will.”

There was an awkward silence as he left the room. When he was gone, Raquel came over to them, looking like she didn’t want to discuss what had just happened.

“Can I join you?”

“Of course,” the Inspector said.

Raquel sat down, choosing the chair next to Sergio rather than the chair next to the Inspector.

“How are you doing?” she asked him softly.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Is it almost over?” she asked her colleague.

“Only a few more questions,” the Inspector said.

They were easier questions now, asking about details and practicalities, and he could answer them without any trouble. Finally, she seemed satisfied.

“Thank you, Mr. Martín,” she said. “You can go now.”

He nodded and got up, relieved that it was over.

“I’ll be in my room.”

And he went out into the hallway, leaving the two women to talk.

…

The moment he was out of the room, Elena turned off the recorder on the table and turned to Raquel.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you for sending him out.”

Elena shook her head.

“I’m sorry for bringing him, Raquel. He kept asking me if he could come, and I thought it might cheer you up to see him. I thought you were… friendly.”

“We are,” Raquel said, but then she sighed. “My relationship with Angel is just a little… complicated.”

Elena wasn’t the kind of person to pry – she merely nodded.

“I didn’t know. Again, I’m sorry for bringing him.”

“It’s okay,” Raquel said, then she threw her friend a curious look. “Why are you here, Elena? It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, but I think you already had all of the information that he just told you.”

“I like to be thorough,” Elena said matter-of-factly, but Raquel knew her friend.

She smiled.

“Is that really why you came?”

“Well…” Elena said, a little reluctantly, “perhaps I also wanted to see how you were doing.”

“That’s nice of you.”

Elena waved the compliment away, then she gave Raquel one of her typical piercing looks.

“So… how _are_ you doing? This can’t be easy for you.”

Raquel sighed.

“No, it hasn’t been easy.”

“Are you holding up alright?”

“As… as well as can be expected, I think. The first few weeks were the hardest.”

“Is Mr. Martín giving you any trouble?”

“Oh,” Raquel said. “No, not at all. We got off to a rather rocky start, but things have been much better lately.”

Elena gave her a steady look, then she said quietly:

“It really isn’t fair what they did to you, Raquel.”

Raquel pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the tears that were suddenly burning behind her eyes. She generally tried not to think about it too much, but the injustice of it all still stung.

“I know.”

“Why did you accept the assignment?”

“Well, it’s not like the Commissioner gave me a choice,” Raquel said. “I was simply _given_ this assignment, I didn’t get a say in it.”

“I know that,” Elena said. “What I’m wondering is why you stayed at all. I’m not sure if I wouldn’t have handed in my resignation if I were you.”

“And throw away everything I spent twenty years building?” Raquel said bitterly. “I worked really hard to get where I was.”

“But look at where you are now,” Elena said, gesturing at their surroundings. “This must be awful for you.”

“It is,” Raquel admitted, “but it won’t last forever. In two years, the Commissioner is going to retire. I just have to stick it out until then.”

“You think the next Commissioner will give you back your previous position?”

“I know she will,” Raquel said calmly. “Since it will be you.”

Elena looked away.

“We don’t know that yet.”

“I know,” Raquel said steadily.

“There’s no guarantee at all.”

“If you are the person to finally get Javier Ortega off the streets, it’s all but guaranteed.”

“Perhaps, but I’d still have to manage that first.”

“I have complete faith in you.”

Elena looked up at her, then gave Raquel one of her rare smiles.

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that. And if I do make Commissioner, then of course I’ll give you back your job.”

“I know you will,” Raquel said quietly. “Thank you.”

Elena sighed and shook her head.

“I just wish there was something I could do for you _now._ ”

“I don’t think you can,” Raquel said. “And it’s… it’s not _that_ bad, I guess.”

Elena made a sound of disagreement.

“I suppose there are worse things, but you still don’t deserve this.”

And there it was, in the back of her mind, the nasty little voice that sounded so much like Alberto: _You do deserve to be here, for what you did._ She tried to push the voice away – it was lying, it was lying to her – but she didn’t fully succeed. She didn’t want Elena to notice, however, so she forced a smile.

“I’m fine, really,” she said. “I’m just very bored most of the time.”

Elena shot her a considering look.

“It’s too bad that you don’t have a case to work on. Since you have so much time on your hands.”

“You know I’m not allowed any access to cases anymore,” Raquel said regretfully. “The only thing I’m allowed to do is answer any questions Angel sends me.”

“True…” Elena said carefully. “But let’s say someone dropped a card here, and let’s say that that card contained the passcode to access the Ortega case with a VPN connection.”

Raquel straightened up, then answered equally carefully:

“If that person hoped to be Commissioner someday, that would be a very risky thing to do.”

“Absolutely,” Elena agreed. “But accidents happen all the time. Even to people who hope to be Commissioner.”

“Don’t risk yourself on my account, Elena,” Raquel said quietly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elena said with dignity, picking up her notepad. When a small card fell out onto the table, a seemingly accidental movement of her arm swept it to the floor. Then she got up.

“I suppose I shouldn’t keep Angel and Ramírez waiting any longer.”

Raquel got up too and walked Elena to the door. As they looked at each other, Raquel had the sudden urge to tell her friend how much it meant to her that she had come to see her, and that she would take a risk like this just to help her feel better, but she knew Elena didn’t like outpourings of emotion, so she simply said:

“Thank you, Elena.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Elena replied, but then she added in a quieter tone: “But let me know if you find something I’ve overlooked.”

Raquel smiled.

“I will.”

Elena hesitated, then she suddenly said:

“Raquel… you know you can always call me, right? If you need anything or… if you just need someone to talk to.”

Raquel was touched.

“Thank you,” she said. “That’s really nice to know.”

Elena nodded, snapping back to her usual brisk manner as she opened the front door.

“Alright then. We’ll talk soon.”

“Yes,” Raquel said. “Soon.”

She kept standing by the front door as her friend walk down the garden path to the waiting car. She got in without looking back, and Raquel watched her drive away with a distinct feeling of sadness.

…

The sadness lingered as she went back into the living room and sat down on the couch, feeling more isolated than ever after this short visit. How she wished that she could have gotten into that car with Elena, to drive back to Madrid, to her old life, her family, her home. She thought that she had started to resign herself to her new situation, but the conversation with Elena had reminded her again of the unfairness of it all, and now she rather wanted to cry. She looked up when Salva appeared in the doorway of the living room.

“Would you prefer to be alone right now?” he asked her tentatively.

“No,” she said, glad to have his company. “No, you can come in.”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he said, sitting down in the chair next to the couch. “After… you know, earlier.”

She understood that he meant the situation with Angel.

She nodded. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” he said quickly. “It’s just that you looked so uncomfortable.”

She realized that he had been the one to notice her discomfort and that he’d alerted Elena to it – of course, Elena had had her back to them, so she wouldn’t have seen. She felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards him.

“I was,” she said. “Thank you for noticing.”

“No problem,” he murmured. “I can’t believe _he_ didn’t notice it.”

“He didn’t mean any harm,” she said automatically. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

He glanced at her.

“That doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t still respect your boundaries.”

She realized that he was right. Why was she defending Angel? She always did that, always brushed aside the inappropriate comments, the lingering looks, the way he was always trying to be alone with her. Whenever she had thought about telling him to back off, something had stopped her: the voice of her ex-husband, telling her that she always made a big deal out of nothing. She felt like she couldn’t trust her own judgment of the situation, so she had treated Angel’s behavior like it was nothing, but now she realized that it wasn’t nothing. It made her uncomfortable, and it wasn’t the proper way to behave towards a colleague.

She sighed.

“I know, Salva, you’re right.” On an impulse, she decided to confide in him. “You see, Angel’s been in love with me for years. That’s not just my assumption – he hasn’t been particularly subtle about it. And ever since I told him I was getting a divorce, he’s been a lot more persistent.”

He hesitated, then he asked:

“Do you like him back?”

The question was unexpected, and it threw her off a bit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Dating is the furthest thing from my mind right now. My divorce isn’t even final yet.”

“Of course,” he said.

“To be honest,” she continued on without thinking, “at this point, it feels like I’ll never be ready for a new relationship again.”

Then she abruptly stopped talking, embarrassed. Why was she telling him this? He didn’t want to hear about her personal life. And yet, when she looked at him, he merely gave her a thoughtful nod.

“I can imagine that it would take time to get over something like a divorce. Not… not that I have any experience in the matter.”

She rather wished that he would go on, that he would tell her something about his own life in return, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, and she didn’t want to push him. She decided to move past it.

“Either way,” she said, “even if I do ever start dating again, I don’t think it will be Angel.”

He was looking at her in a way that she couldn’t quite interpret.

“Good,” he said.

She gave him an amused look.

“Why is that good?”

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “This is really none of my business. I just think that… that you deserve someone better, that’s all.”

She thought that that was rather sweet of him, but then he abruptly got up.

“I think I’ll go back to my room.”

She wished they could have continued talking a bit longer, but she could see that he was embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken, and she didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

“Alright,” she said. “Thank you for coming to check on me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbled.

“I’ll see you at five?”

He glanced at her, then looked down with a shy smile.

“Of course.”

She looked after him with a slight smile. He was so incredibly awkward, but his heart was clearly in the right place, and she felt significantly better now than she had before their conversation. Then she suddenly remembered something, and she got up from the couch to walk to the place where Elena had been sitting at the table earlier. She crouched down and picked up the card Elena had dropped ‘accidentally’. On it, there was a combination of letters and numbers that she knew would give her access to the Ortega case – which meant, gloriously, that she would actually have something to work on from now on. No more sitting around all day, no more empty mornings and afternoons with nothing to do – she would be able to properly work again, on a real, important case, and she was inordinately excited about that. She tucked the card safely away in her pocket, then went up the stairs to get her laptop from her bedroom. Thank God for Elena, she thought. Thank God.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that so many of you seemed glad to see Elena again! 😊 Thank you to those who left a comment to let me know! 🥰💗 
> 
> A big thank you to Loreak, Bucanek and notprincehamlet for test-reading this chapter and giving me feedback! 💗
> 
> And as always, a big thank you to thegirloverseas, the best beta reader anyone could wish for 💗

The next day after breakfast, Raquel settled herself at the table in the living room and opened her laptop with a feeling of suppressed excitement. Oh, it felt so good to sit down at the start of the day knowing that she had something to do, that she could be _useful_ for once, that she might finally contribute to something substantial again. She had been feeling so helpless in her current situation, unable to influence her circumstances in any way, but working on this case might help them get out of this house just a little bit faster, and that was a very satisfying thought. She might not be able to completely solve the case on her own, but at least she wouldn’t just be sitting back anymore while other people did the work.

As soon as her laptop was ready, she activated the VPN that allowed her to connect to the servers of the Madrid police, and which she’d been using for the past few weeks to get access to her work e-mail so she could answer Angel’s questions. Now, she navigated to the restricted part of the servers where the open cases were located. When the browser prompted her to put in a passcode, she took out the card Elena had left for her yesterday and entered the numbers and letters into the little window on the screen. She held her breath as the passcode was processed, afraid that it might not work for some reason, but then the little window disappeared, and to her considerable delight, the full file of the Ortega case popped up.

Her eyebrows went up as she scrolled down the list of file names – this was one of the most extensive cases she’d ever seen. Of course, it was one of the biggest running operations in the entire force, with multiple Inspectors trying to build a case against Ortega for years. Now, it was Elena’s turn. Thanks to Salva’s eye witness testimony, they would finally be able to convict Ortega for something, but in order to do that, they would have to find him somehow, and that was the problem. Elena had been looking for weeks now, and she had come up empty so far. Still, hidden somewhere in this mass of information, there might be a clue to how they could get to Ortega – the name of a close associate who knew where he was, perhaps, or the address of an old hideout that he’d used years ago and that he might be using again. She would have to go through each of these files with a fine-toothed comb.

Before opening the first file, Raquel got up to make herself a cup of coffee. It was clear that she was going to have to be extremely patient – it would take _months_ to get through all of this information – but she told herself that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. So she settled herself back behind her computer with her steaming mug of coffee, and set to work. Soon, she was entirely absorbed in her task, and it felt like no time at all before her stomach alerted her to the fact that it was already past lunchtime. She looked at her watch with a feeling of deep satisfaction – for the first time since she’d gotten here, it had felt like the hours weren’t just dragging on forever, empty and relentlessly repetitive. It was a very welcome change, and once again she sent a mental ‘thank you’ to Elena for giving her access to this case.

The afternoon went by equally quickly as she read file after file, every once in a while writing down something that caught her attention, with the intention of sending a list to Elena in the hopes that it might lead somewhere. She looked up in surprise when the telephone rang – she hadn’t realized that it was already five o’clock. She quickly answered the phone, assured Ramírez that everything was fine, then she returned to her computer. It wasn’t until Salva appeared in the doorway that she remembered they usually started dinner at this time – for the first time in weeks, she hadn’t spent all day counting down the hours until five o’clock.

“Oh,” he said, when he saw her sitting in front of her computer. “Are you busy?”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, closing her open windows. “Let me just disconnect.”

He hesitated.

“We don’t have to cook tonight if you’re busy,” he said. “I can go back to my room.”

“No,” she said, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Please don’t feel obligated…”

She threw him a look.

“Don’t think I don’t know that you only eat in the evenings,” she said. “I’m not letting you skip dinner too.”

He went red.

“You don’t have to do this just for me.”

“I don’t,” she assured him truthfully. “I like cooking with you.”

She pressed a button on her laptop and closed it.

“There. Let’s start.”

As they went into the kitchen and began to prepare the food, she noticed that he was kind of quiet, and curiously formal with her. After a while, she concluded that he must feel uncomfortable after their relatively personal conversation yesterday, and she reminded herself sternly that she shouldn’t forget why they were here and that, just because they shared a house, it didn’t mean that he was her friend. She should stay mindful to keep an appropriate distance from him, which was the professional thing to do – but it was hard. He was the only person she could talk to, and the truth was that she liked him: he was smart and kind and considerate, and an interesting person to talk to. She liked spending time with him, she enjoyed their conversations and their cooking sessions, and it wasn’t easy not to become too friendly with him when they spent all of their evenings together.

She was once again confronted with this fact as they kept cooking, working together very smoothly by now, and after a while he seemed to forget his awkwardness and he started acting normal again. She reacted automatically to his friendly questions by responding with equal friendliness and by gently teasing him, and soon they were laughing as usual, and she felt her spirits lift the way they always did when they were together. She knew she should probably keep more of a distance – she knew she wasn’t supposed to get attached to someone who was in effect a prisoner she was guarding – but the fact was that the only moments of joy in her day came when she was with him, and she wasn’t willing to give those up.

…

For the next few days, she spent almost all of her time working on the case, stopping only to cook with Salva in the evenings. It was beyond wonderful to have something to occupy herself with, and the case itself was challenging and interesting, but she did notice that she missed having someone to discuss it with. She’d always been used to working with a partner, and it was frustrating not to have someone to talk to about the thing that was occupying almost all of her waking thoughts. She called Elena a few times, and while her friend seemed happy to discuss things, Raquel knew that she was very busy, so she tried not to call her too often.

One afternoon, she was working as usual when Salva walked into the room. She expected him to go into the kitchen, but he stayed by the door, looking at her.

“Yes?” she said.

He hesitated, seeming unsure of what to say. She glanced at her watch, but it wasn’t five o’clock yet. She wondered if he had just come down because he wanted to talk – after all, she couldn’t be the only one to get lonely. She was rather pleased that he seemed to want her company.

“Can I ask what you’re working on?” he finally asked, confirming her suspicion.

“It’s something for work”, she said. “Police business.”

He gave her a look of surprise.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to work on cases anymore?”

She considered him for a moment. She could lie to him and say that she was following up on one of Angel’s cases, but they shared a living space, and he must have already noticed that she was spending more time working than would be plausible if it was just follow-up. She couldn’t say she liked the thought of having to lie to him over and over again – and on top of that, it wasn’t like he was going to tell her boss that she was illegally working on a case. She decided that it couldn’t hurt to tell him what was going on.

“Elena gave me access to the Ortega case,” she admitted. “So I can help her.”

His eyebrows went up.

“Was she supposed to do that?”

“No, not at all, so don’t mention it to anyone.”

He gave her a dry look.

“Who would I mention it to?”

“Good point. Don’t tell Ramírez, then.”

“I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

A silence fell, and she noticed how he was looking at her laptop rather longingly.

“It must be nice to have something to work on,” he said.

She suddenly felt for him, because she recognized that hunger in his eyes only too well. A mad idea suddenly occurred to her – she’d been missing someone to talk to about the case – what if she asked him if he wanted to help her? She shook her head and dismissed the thought automatically, but it insisted, and when she examined it a bit more closely… didn’t it make sense? He wanted Ortega to be found just as much as she did, because once he was able to testify at the trial, his charges would be dropped and he would be free to go. If anything, he was even _more_ invested in the outcome of this investigation than she was, because if worst came to worst, she would still get to walk away after six months, while he could be stuck here for years.

She decided to follow her impulse.

“Would you like to help?” she asked him.

His eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“If you’d like,” she smiled. “I could use another set of eyes, and it would be useful to have someone to talk things through with. I can’t go calling Elena every five minutes.”

“Then yes, please,” he said eagerly. “It would be great to do something that’s actually useful.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, gesturing to the chair beside her. “I’m afraid we’ll have to share the screen, though. I don’t have a way to print the files.”

“That’s okay,” he said, moving the chair a little further away before he sat down, careful as always to keep his distance from her.

She started explaining the system to him, what sort of things she was looking for, what the different codes in the files stood for, and he listened attentively, asking intelligent questions and making pertinent remarks. They stopped only to make dinner, then they resumed their work. Time flew by without either of them noticing it, and when Raquel finally checked her watch, she was surprised to see that it was past midnight.

“I guess we should go to bed,” she said. “Then we can really start tomorrow.”

He nodded regretfully.

“I suppose we should.”

“So, now that you know that we’ll mostly be looking through old files, do you still want to help me?” she asked him.

“Yes please,” he said immediately. “That is, if you’re sure that it’s okay with you.”

“It is,” she said. “I mean, technically I shouldn’t do this, of course, but you can’t pass along any information, so I don’t think it could hurt. I’ve always been used to working with a partner, so this will be nice for me.”

He looked pleased.

“I’ll try my best to be a good partner.”

They said their goodnights, and while she was brushing her teeth a few minutes later, she reflected that she’d never thought to have a criminal as a partner one day, and that life could take some really strange turns.

…

From that point onwards, they started spending entire days together. He came down with her in the mornings now, and they worked through the day, stopping only to eat. At first, he didn’t eat anything during breakfast or lunch, merely sitting with her to talk about the case, but after a while she discovered that, if she just put food in front of him, he’d eat it seemingly without noticing, caught up as he was in his thoughts. She was pleased about that, since he’d lost quite a bit of weight since he came here, and she’d been rather concerned about him not eating properly. The food and the work had a good effect on him – he became more cheerful and more energetic, and she noticed the same change in herself. It wasn’t that she was _happy_ , per se, but the work was giving her a sense of purpose, and that made such a difference to her days. She assumed that the same was true for him.

And there was something else. On the first day when they sat down behind her laptop after breakfast, she noticed something strange about him as soon as they started working.

They read through a few files together in silence, then she turned to him.

“So,” she said, “what do you think? Anything relevant in here?”

“I’d say so,” he said thoughtfully. “There was a name in that last file that I saw in an earlier file as well.”

“What name?“ she asked.

“Jorge Sánchez,” he said.

“Yes, that does ring a bell. I think we saw his name in the Castellana money laundering case.”

“The Lavapiés robbery,” he corrected her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She suddenly noticed that he was different somehow – he was sitting up straighter, his voice was firmer, and he wasn’t speaking in his usual hesitant manner.

“You should write it down,” he said. “So we can keep an eye out for it.”

She looked at him in surprise. Where was this confidence suddenly coming from? She’d certainly never seen it in him before. As they continued, his focus never seemed to waver for an instant, and he kept noticing patterns and links between the files, which she found extremely useful. She was becoming increasingly impressed with his intelligence, and she thought that perhaps his confidence was justified – but it came at a price.

He was looking intently at the screen as she was scrolling through another file, when suddenly he held up a hand.

“Stop,” he said. “Go back.”

She shot him a look, half amused, half annoyed.

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at her, uncomprehending.

“What?”

“Yes, sir,” she repeated drily. “You know, since you seem so comfortable giving me orders.”

Immediately, she saw something shift in him, and the next moment he was back to normal.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, going red. “I didn’t mean to. I just get so caught up in my thoughts, I kind of… forget my manners.”

“It’s okay,” she said, relenting. “I just noticed, that’s all.”

“I do know you’re in charge,” he said apologetically. “I won’t do it again.”

And yet, when they started reading again, she noticed that it happened all over again the moment he became too focused: his usual awkwardness was replaced by a cool confidence that bordered on the arrogant.

“Salva,” she said gently. “You’re doing it again.”

Once again, he instantly switched back and apologized. She looked at him, fascinated. For a moment, she wondered if his usual innocuous manner was just an affectation, and if his real character was coming out now, but he was genuinely blushing, and that was not something he could fake. She kept observing him throughout the day as he went back and forth between these two parts of his personality, and she came to the conclusion that most of the time, he was very self-conscious, but that that trait seemed to fall away whenever he became sufficiently absorbed in what he was doing. After she got used to it, she didn’t mind talking to this new version of him – it was interesting and challenging – but she could do without the arrogance, and she was glad when he went back to being his gentle, considerate self when they stopped work at the end of the day to make dinner.

“Thank you for including me in this,” he said as they were cutting vegetables. “I can’t believe how good it felt to be able to use my brain again for a change.”

“Yes,” she said. “I agree that it’s very satisfying. At least now I don’t have the feeling that I wasted the entire day.”

“Exactly,” he said. “I… I do hope you’ll allow me to help you again tomorrow. I’m not sure I was a very good partner today.”

“You were a great partner,” she said honestly. “You made a lot of useful observations.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. And I’m sorry again for ordering you around.”

She gave him a curious look.

“You don’t realize when you’re doing it, do you?”

“No,” he said. “I really don’t. It just… happens. Please call me out on it if it gets too bad.”

“Alright,” she said. “I will. Now do you think there’s any connection between Ortega and the drug bust from the last file we read? I thought the connection was rather tenuous.”

They kept talking about the case all through dinner, and well into the night.

…

As the days passed, they fell into an easy familiarity. They worked surprisingly well together, and after a while he really began to feel like a partner to her. She had been working with Angel for years, and Salva was very different, but all in all she felt like that was a good thing. He was sharper and quicker, he took more initiative, and – most importantly – he was never the least bit inappropriate. She began feeling increasingly comfortable around him, and after a while, they didn’t only talk about the case anymore during their meal breaks or in the evenings.

Gradually, they started straying to other topics more and more often, because he was interesting to talk to and she found that they were on the same page about a lot of things. Then they started talking about themselves as well – just a little bit at first, casual mentions, little snippets of information, but Raquel was very curious about him, and she felt that he was genuinely interested in her as well. More and more often, she had to remind herself of her resolution to keep a professional distance from him, but it was getting increasingly hard. She enjoyed his company, and she believed he enjoyed hers too, and that was hard to resist.

Then one evening as they were working late on the case, they came across a photograph of a suspected associate of Ortega’s, and he frowned.

“He looks familiar,” he said.

“Do you think you know him?”

“I think he might be one of the men who was there on… on the night of the murder.”

“Let’s cross-reference that with your file,” she said. “I know there are pictures in there of the men my colleagues suspected might have been there. This might confirm one of them.”

She opened his file, then started clicking through the pictures that were a part of it. There were photographs of the location of the murder, of a smashed-up car, and then, suddenly – a picture of a man lying on the ground, dead, a red stain on his shirt front and a pool of blood underneath him. Raquel’s eyes widened, then she hurriedly closed the window and threw a worried look at Salva. He was staring at the screen in horror.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “You shouldn’t have seen that. I should have known that would be in there, I should have screened the pictures beforehand…”

He didn’t respond, he just kept staring at the screen.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” she repeated, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He seemed to snap out of it, blinking a few times and swallowing hard.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

He got up and left the room, and she felt terribly guilty as she watched him go. She waited ten, fifteen minutes for him to come back, but he didn’t reappear, and she wondered what she should do. On the one hand, she wanted to give him space, but on the other hand, it was her fault that he’d seen that picture in the first place and she felt like she should do something to make it right. She finally decided to go check on him.

She went up the stairs and softly knocked on his bedroom door.

“Salva?” she said. “Can I come in?”

There was a quiet ‘yes’ from behind the door, so she carefully opened it and went inside. His room was very neat, just like she would have expected of him. There were a few books on the bedside table, and a beautiful wooden chess set was set out on the little desk underneath the window. Salva himself was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, so she took the desk chair and sat down opposite him.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” she said softly. “It must have been a shock, especially when you weren’t expecting it.”

He gave a short nod. She noticed that he was holding one of the black chess pawns, turning it over and over in his hands.

“I know you said he was an associate of yours,” she said. “But was he a friend as well?”

He hesitated, then said:

“Yes, I suppose you could say that he was my friend. And just… to see him like that…”

She felt so bad for him.

“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” she repeated.

He shook his head with a strange expression.

“No,” he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I deserved to see it.”

She frowned at him.

“What do you mean? Why would you _deserve_ to see a picture of your murdered friend?”

He seemed to be struggling with himself.

“Because…” he whispered, “because I’m the one who got him killed. It was my fault.”

She let this sink in for a moment, then she gently said:

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t ‘think’ it,” he said quietly. “It’s a fact.”

“Questions of guilt are very complex, though,” she said carefully. “It can be very hard to determine chains of causality.”

“Well, the chain is very clear here. My actions led directly to him getting shot in the chest.”

“I thought you were in the car when it happened?”

“I was. I’m talking about my actions before that day.”

He paused, and she asked carefully:

“Do you want to tell me about that?”

He hesitated, and she could see that he wanted to, but then he sighed and shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Oh,” she said. “Right.”

She’d forgotten for a moment that he was a criminal, and if he told her about something illegal he’d done, as a police officer, she’d have to charge him for it – but as a person, she could still try to comfort him.

“Look,” she said gently, “I don’t know what you did that led the two of you to be there that night, but I do know that it was _not_ your fault that your friend got killed. You didn’t shoot him. Ortega shot him. And we’re going to get him for that.”

He looked up at her for the first time.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Sometimes our actions have unforeseen consequences,” she continued. “We can’t help those. We can only go through life trying not to hurt the people around us, but sometimes it still happens.”

“I should have tried harder,” he whispered.

“It’s easy to say that in hindsight,” she said. “But in the moment, I’m sure you were doing what you thought was best. I… I don’t know you that well, Salva, but we’ve been stuck here for a while now, and from what I’ve seen… you’re a good person. You may have made some bad decisions…”

“You could say that, yes,” he murmured.

“… but I’m sure you never meant for anyone to get hurt. Our intentions matter. They show what kind of person we are.”

He swallowed hard, then he seemed to pull himself together.

“Yes,” he said. “I guess that’s true. I’m sorry to be so dramatic.”

“It’s alright,” she said kindly. “You’re not dramatic at all. Guilt is a really difficult thing to live with.”

She hesitated, then said:

“If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here, okay?”

He looked up at her.

“Thank you, Raquel. You’re nicer to me than I deserve.”

“That’s not true,” she corrected him gently. “Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

She decided that it might be best to just change the topic, so she straightened up.

“What would you say if we took a break from the case tonight? I think we’ve had enough of it for one evening.”

He nodded.

“I agree. I guess… I should wish you goodnight, then.”

She hesitated. Again, she wanted to give him space if he needed it, but in his place, she wouldn’t want to be alone right now.

“Would you maybe like to watch a movie?” she proposed on an impulse.

He gave her a clear look of relief.

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Well, come on then. We can hook my laptop to the TV and watch something on Netflix.”

They both got up, and he followed her downstairs. She plugged in the cable to connect her laptop to the TV, then asked him what he wanted to watch. He shrugged.

“It doesn’t really matter to me. You can choose something.”

She considered her options for a moment, then she selected a movie that she’d seen before and which she knew was interesting but not too dramatic. They sat down to watch it, she on the couch, and he in the chair beside it. The situation was so familiar – settling down to watch a movie with someone – and for one fleeting moment, things almost felt _normal_ to her. She shook her head at herself. Wasn’t it astonishing what people could get used to if given enough time?

She kept glancing at him as the movie played, and she could gradually see some of the tension drain out of him. She was glad about that, and she could feel her own tension disappear as well, until she felt relaxed and a little sleepy. By now, she felt comfortable enough in his presence to lie down on the couch and watch the movie that way, but since she’d already seen it, it didn’t manage to keep her attention for very long, and before she knew it, she was asleep. When she woke up again a few hours later, the TV and her laptop were turned off, and Salva had gone to bed. She sat up, then she realized that he had covered her with a blanket, and she smiled to herself. Criminal or not… he was a good person, and kind to her.

As she folded the blanket, she thought about how, only a few weeks ago, it would have seemed impossible for him to confide in her about something so personal as guilt over the death of a friend, but they were growing closer every day. She felt that she had to face the facts: no matter if she’d tried to avoid it… she could no longer deny that they had become friends. She knew that it wasn’t wise, she knew that it wasn’t supposed to happen, but she couldn’t help it – she was glad.

She thought about how they cooked together, how they often spent hours talking these days, and how she wasn’t just spending time with him anymore because he was her only option, but because she genuinely enjoyed his company. She thought about how they had started to take care of each other, just a little bit – how she made sure he ate, how they listened to and comforted each other, and how he’d been protective of her when Angel was making her uncomfortable. She suddenly realized something curious. Even though he was a criminal, and even though she hadn’t known him for very long, she felt more comfortable around him than she did around Angel, whom she’d known for years. She wasn’t sure what it was about him, but for some reason, he made her feel safe, and that was incredibly precious to her. Of all the men in the world she could have been stuck in a house with – she was so glad that it was him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you again to the people who have left comments! 💗 I can't tell you how much that means to me! 🥰
> 
> A big thank you to heartunderfire, Loreak, Bucanek, and notprincehamlet for proof-reading and providing feedback! 💗
> 
> And a big thank you to thegirloverseas, for being the best, both as a friend and as a beta reader 💗
> 
> Thank you all for reading, enjoy the chapter! 😊😘

Sergio noticed something curious over the course of the next few weeks. He’d always been very fond of his solitude, and in his entire adult life he’d never liked to spend more than a few consecutive hours in other people’s company – yet now he was spending a lot of time with Raquel, and he didn’t mind it at all. Working with her on the Ortega case had immeasurably improved his days, and he was fast coming to appreciate her intelligence and capability as a detective, but he enjoyed the moments when they weren’t discussing the case just as much. She had a warmth about her, and he found that he just liked being in her company – he liked to discuss things with her, and he liked the way she teased him sometimes, with so much humor and kindness. In those moments, she brought out a levity of spirit in him that kept surprising him.

They settled into a comfortable routine together. During the day, they worked the case, stopping only for lunch, then in the evenings they put it aside to cook and have dinner together. After dinner, they sometimes watched a movie, but more often than not they just ended up talking. He’d always been an extremely private person, yet after he’d confided in her about the guilt he felt, some kind of barrier had fallen away and he found himself talking to her more freely, even about things that were very personal to him. He told her about his parents, and that they had both died before he was a teenager. He told her about how he hadn’t had a normal childhood because he’d spent so much of it in hospital, and he showed her the origami his father had taught him to make. In return, she told him a little about her own life and family, and he listened attentively, pleased to get to know her better.

Halfway through December, when they’d been in the house for about ten weeks, he suddenly realized that he’d made some sort of peace with the situation he was in, that he wasn’t so desperately unhappy anymore. He knew why. She made all the difference.

One evening, they sat talking in front of the TV. They had started watching a movie, but as happened more and more often, Raquel had paused the movie halfway through to discuss something small, and they hadn’t stopped talking for an hour, the movie forgotten, frozen on the screen.

Suddenly, they both jumped at the shrill ring of the telephone.

Raquel looked at her watch.

“It’s nine o’clock, who’s calling us now?”

She picked up the phone and her frown turned into a smile.

“Oh, hi, Elena,” she said. “Why are you…”

She abruptly fell silent and her eyes went wide.

“What? You mean… _now?_ Oh shit.”

Then she squared her shoulders with a look of determination.

“Got it. I’ll call you from the car.”

“What’s wrong?” Sergio said the moment she hung up the phone.

“Get up,” she said to him, her tone urgent and firm. “We have to leave.”

He stared at her.

“Leave? Why?”

“I’ll tell you in the car. Go pack your things, we have to leave _now!”_

He hurriedly got up and went upstairs, where he threw his things haphazardly into a bag. When he went down again, she was already waiting for him at the front door, her own bag at her feet, her cell phone pressed to her ear.

“This is Inspector Raquel Murillo, badge number 045920,” she said. “You are running a monitoring system for an ankle monitor at 76, Calle Barillo. I need it turned off. Yes, immediately.”

He raised his eyebrows as he put on his coat and watched the little green lights on the small black box by the door go out. Then Raquel turned to him with an expression of reluctance.

“I’m sorry, Salva,” she said, “but I’m going to have to handcuff you.”

He nodded, equally reluctantly, and held out his hands, wrists together.

“Can you do it in the front so I can at least carry my own bag?”

“Of course,” she said, then she quickly cuffed him and opened the front door. “Let’s go.”

Stepping outside after ten weeks of not leaving the house was a surreal experience. It was dark, and the air was surprisingly cold, telling him that autumn had passed even if he hadn’t noticed it. As he walked down the garden path behind Raquel, he saw the lit windows of the houses down the street, and he was reminded for the first time in weeks that there were other people in the world than just the two of them. It was a strange realization, a feeling of the world opening up again around him. Some houses had strings of lights in the bushes of their front yard. It was almost Christmas.

Raquel pressed a button on her keys and her car lights blinked as the doors unlocked. She opened the passenger side door for him, then put both of their bags in the trunk and got into the driver’s seat herself. He kept quiet as she navigated through the narrow streets of the village, and he reflected how strange it was that they could just leave like that, that his entire life now fit into one medium-sized bag, packed up within minutes.

Raquel kept looking in the rearview mirrors to make sure that they weren’t being followed, but once they were out on a bigger road, he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders, and he figured that it was okay to talk.

“What happened?” he asked. “Why did we have to rush out of there?”

She sighed.

“Elena just got a call from the IT people working the night shift in Madrid’s central precinct. The database for the witness protection program was hacked into, and your file was accessed. I think we can guess who did that. They couldn’t see how long ago it happened, so Ortega’s men could have been at our doorstep any moment.”

“I see,” he nodded, feeling a slight chill go down his spine at the thought of armed men suddenly bursting through their door. “I suppose that means that we can’t go back?”

She nodded.

“Yes. The location has been compromised. It can’t be used anymore.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I told Elena I’d call her from the car for further instructions,” she said. “It’s got Bluetooth.”

She pressed a button on her dashboard, then said in a clear voice:

“Call Elena González.”

A moment later, there was a dial sound from the speakers. The call was answered after the first ring.

“Raquel?” the Inspector’s voice sounded, loud and clear. “Are you out?”

“Yes,” she said. “We’re in the car right now, I just chose a random direction to drive in. Where should we go?”

“I’m looking at the database right now. There’s only one empty safe house with a panic room within driving distance from you, so I think you have no choice but to go there. It’s not often used though – it looks like it’s in a really remote location, outside a tiny village all the way up in the mountains.”

Raquel frowned.

“Why do we have a safe house in a place like that?”

“It used to belong to an ex-Commissioner,” Elena said. “He left it to the police when he died. I need to warn you – the house hasn’t been used in a long time, so it might not be too clean.”

“Alright,” Raquel said, “we’ll manage.”

“And there’s something else,” the Inspector said. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Raquel replied.

“Mr. Martín,” the Inspector said, and Sergio turned to the speakers in surprise.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay in handcuffs tonight. I’ve called the local police, and the earliest they can send someone over to install the system for your ankle monitor is tomorrow morning. My apologies for the inconvenience.”

Sergio couldn’t say that he was thrilled about that news, but he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

“I understand,” he said.

“Alright,” Elena said. “Then I’ll give you the address and I’ll text you the code to open the front door.”

Raquel put the address into her GPS as the Inspector dictated it.

“Okay,” she said, “Got it.”

“Call me if you need anything, alright?” the Inspector said. “And I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Raquel said. “Thank you for your help, Elena.”

“Of course. Goodnight.”

Raquel pressed another button, and the line went dead.

“So,” she said, as she turned her car around. “Looks like we’re headed for the mountains.”

Sergio merely nodded. It was all the same to him where they lived – he couldn’t go outside anyway.

They drove for about an hour and a half, and the roads kept getting more narrow and more winding as they entered the foothills of the mountains, and then the mountain range itself. Sergio kept an eye on the temperature indicator on the dashboard, which kept dropping steadily as they climbed higher and higher, until finally it was well below zero. Patches of ice started appearing on the road, and Raquel had to slow down and drive with the utmost care. They were in the middle of a forest now, and there were no more street lights. Outside of the beams of the headlights, the dark was absolute.

“What the hell,” Raquel muttered, swerving carefully around a gleaming patch of ice. “Who wants to live in the middle of nowhere like this?”

Sergio privately thought that he wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t say anything. The road was winding sharply, with a deep ravine on the passenger side and no safety rail, and he didn’t feel that it would be wise to distract his driver. After another ten minutes, the GPS indicated that they had arrived, and they saw an open wrought-iron gate appear at the side of the road. Raquel slowed down and carefully turned onto the gravel drive, which took them through more trees, until finally they came to a house. Sergio couldn’t see it very well in the dark, but it looked quite a bit bigger than the house they’d just come from.

The moment the car was parked, Raquel leaned her head back against the headrest, blew out a long breath and rubbed her hands over her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Yes, don’t worry,” she said. “It’s just that that road was a nightmare. I’m exhausted. But anyway, we’re here now.”

She got out and opened the door for him, and as he got out, the freezing air was like a slap in the face after the warmth of the car, a bitter wind biting at his exposed skin.

“ _Fuck_ it’s cold,” Raquel breathed as she went to the trunk to get their bags. Sergio noticed that she was only wearing a thin leather jacket, and that she was shivering.

“I didn’t think to bring an actual winter coat,” she explained as she saw him look. “I didn’t think I’d be going outside a lot.”

They hurried to the front door, which opened without any issues after Raquel entered the code on a little panel, and then they stepped inside. It was pitch black inside the house, and Raquel had to turn on the flashlight on her phone before they could see that they were in a small entrance hall. A door led them into the living room, and Raquel cursed under her breath as the light fell on dirty floors and a thick layer of dust over the furniture.

“Well this is nice,” she said drily. “Elena wasn’t kidding when she said this place hasn’t been used in a while. Let’s see if we can find the heating, I’m _freezing.”_

She flicked the light switch on the wall, but nothing happened. She cursed.

“Oh hell, the power must be cut because the house has been empty for so long.”

A look of alarm appeared on her face, and Sergio understood why as she rushed to the thermostat. She turned it on, but again nothing happened – not a single gurgle from the radiators. She cursed again, more vehemently.

“Oh this is just _great._ No light, no heating, and with these temperatures!”

“Can you call the Inspector so she can contact the power companies?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” she said, a little desperately. “She won’t be able to reach them until morning.”

He noticed that her teeth were chattering, and as he looked around the room, his eye caught on something.

“There’s a fireplace,” he pointed out. “If there’s firewood, maybe we can make a fire.”

“I’ll go take a look outside,” she said. “I’m really sorry, Salva, but I’ll need to secure you somewhere.”

She opened one of his cuffs and attached it to the pipe of the cold radiator at the side of the room, then she went out, leaving him in the dark. The wind outside was making the house groan and creak around him, and not being able to see a thing was deeply unpleasant. He was also rather worried about Raquel, out in the freezing cold in that thin jacket. All in all, he was very glad when she came back in ten minutes later, her arms full of firewood.

“There’s a shed outside,” she said, her teeth chattering. “Plenty of wood in there.”

She piled some of the smaller sticks into the empty fireplace, then took up the box of matches which was on the mantle. It took a while for the wood to catch, but finally she had a decent fire going. She hunkered down in front of the hearth, shivering violently, feeding stick after stick to the flames. From where he was sitting, Sergio couldn’t feel any of the heat, but at least his coat was warm.

After a while, Raquel got up.

“I’ll go check out the bedrooms,” she said.

She was only gone for five minutes, then she appeared back in the living room with an expression of dismay on her face.

“There are no blankets on the beds!” she said. “Or in the closets either. And it’s _literally_ freezing in here.”

“Maybe we should sleep in the car,” he suggested. “Keep the motor running so we can turn on the heat. How much gas do you have left?”

“Not enough to last us through the night,” she said. “And the last gas station we passed was forty-five minutes ago. I suppose I could drive back…”

He thought back to the dark, icy road, and he took note of how tired she looked.

“Raquel,” he said carefully, “I don’t think you should be driving anymore tonight. Not on these roads.”

She sighed.

“I know. I don’t exactly like the thought, but what else can we do?”

She turned to the fire to warm her hands, then she suddenly brightened.

“Oh!” she said. “I’ll bring the mattresses downstairs, and we can sleep in front of the fire. I’m sure the room will get warmer soon.”

He nodded.

“That might work.”

She disappeared again into the hallway, then she came back in, dragging a mattress. She pushed aside the furniture in front of the grate, then put down the mattress as close to the fire as was safe. She repeated the process with a second mattress, which she dragged over to where he was standing by the radiator. Then she got her bag and put on an extra sweater.

“I’ll uncuff you so you can put on some extra layers as well,” she said. “But don’t do anything stupid like trying to run away, okay? I’m still carrying a gun.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She took out the key and unlocked him, then she considered him as he put on an extra sweater.

“Salva…” she said carefully. “You know you’re safe here. If I let you go… _would_ you run away?”

His mind automatically jumped to the car keys, which he might be able to take out of her pocket while she was sleeping, then he could steal the car – they were only miles from the border with France, he could get there in under an hour – but then he looked at her, and suddenly wondered if that was really what he wanted to do.

His moment’s hesitation was all she needed, however, because she shook her head.

“Never mind,” she said. “Stupid question.”

She cuffed him back to the radiator. The room had gotten slightly warmer thanks to the fire, but it was still pretty cold, and he was glad that he could sleep under his coat, which was long and heavy. Once they had wished each other goodnight and he had settled himself underneath it, he quickly felt himself get warm. When he glanced over at Raquel on her own mattress, though, he could see that she was still shivering underneath her short leather jacket. He hesitated for only a moment – really there was no question here.

“Raquel,” he said, and she looked up.

“Yes?”

“Take my coat.”

“No,” she protested, shaking her head, “you need that.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “You’re not.”

“I am,” she lied.

“I can see you shiver.”

“I’ll get warm in a minute.”

“Raquel,” he repeated softly. “Take my coat.”

There was a stubborn expression on her face.

“No.”

There was only one thing for it, then. He sat up, bunched up his coat, and threw it across the room so it landed on her.

She gave him a pained look.

“But you need this!”

“Not as much as you do. And you better keep it, because I’ll throw it right back at you.”

She looked down at the coat and then back at him.

“But…” she said, “you’re not even by the fire. You’ll freeze.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She considered him for a long moment.

“Salva,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t hurt me to get free, right?”

“What?” he frowned. “No, of course not!”

She nodded.

“I believe you. Alright. Then I suggest a trade.”

“What kind of trade?”

“I’ll keep the coat, but you have to come sleep by the fire too.”

“How…?” he said, but she had already gotten up and walked over to him.

“Get up,” she said, so he did, dragging his handcuff up the radiator pipe in the process.

She dragged his mattress next to hers in front of the fire, turning both mattresses so they would both lie with their heads towards the fire, then she came back to uncuff him from the radiator. They walked to the mattresses, then she said:

“Sit.”

He sat down on his mattress, and she sat down on hers.

“Now what are you going to cuff me to?” he said, looking around. There was nothing suitable within arm’s reach.

“Me,” she said simply, and the next moment she’d placed the cuff around her own wrist and clicked it closed.

He stared at her.

“You’re joking.”

“No,” she said. “This way, I’ll wake up if you try any shenanigans during the night.”

He looked down. Their hands were very close together.

“Raquel,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

She hesitated for just a moment, but then she firmly said:

“Yes. I don’t mind.”

She put her gun and the key to the handcuffs on the ground next to her mattress, so they were still within arm’s reach for her, but he wouldn’t be able to steal them during the night without waking her. Then she put some more wood onto the fire, and they lay down, each with one arm outstretched. She pulled his coat up to her chin. When she curled up small, she fit perfectly underneath it.

“Oh,” she sighed happily, “this is so much better. Thank you.”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“Goodnight, Salva.”

“Goodnight, Raquel.”

She must have been exhausted from the difficult drive, because she fell asleep almost immediately. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep as well, but for some reason, he just couldn’t manage it. He wondered why – he wasn’t that cold – and then it dawned on him that he’d forgotten to take his usual sleeping pill tonight. The little tablets were still inside his bag, and he didn’t want to wake up Raquel to ask for one. He decided that he would just have to fall asleep without medication tonight.

He settled himself on his back, closed his eyes, and tried again, but it was no use – he was wide awake. So he opened his eyes again and rolled onto his side so he was facing her. She was sleeping soundly, and as he looked at her, he suddenly found himself unable to look away. The sight of her face in the flickering light of the fire was softly captivating – she looked so lovely, so peaceful. He observed her for a while, wondering how he’d never really noticed before how beautiful she was.

Then a shadow crossed her face, and she twitched slightly in her sleep. The calm rhythm of her breathing changed, becoming faster and uneven, and when she started shifting uneasily, he realized that she must be having a nightmare. He wasn’t sure what to do – should he wake her? He was just about to say her name when suddenly she veered upright with a loud gasp, pulling his arm along because of the handcuffs, forcing him to sit up too. She looked down at the cuff around her wrist, then looked up at him, and he saw nothing but confusion in her eyes, quickly turning to panic.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, keeping his voice low and calm. “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

She glanced down at the cuff again.

“What…?”

“You cuffed us together, remember? So I could sleep in front of the fire?”

She looked around the room, and he could see comprehension dawn on her as she remembered. Some of the tension went out of her.

“Oh,” she said. “Yes… yes, of course.”

There was something terribly vulnerable about the way she was sitting there. He was thinking of something to say to comfort her when she suddenly drew in a shuddering breath, pressed her hand to her mouth, and the next moment he realized to his utter dismay that she was crying.

“Are… are you okay?” he said, completely at a loss for what to do.

“Yes,” she whispered, wiping the tears away, but they kept falling. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said.

“It’s just… I had a nightmare.”

“I understand. That can leave you pretty shaken up.”

“I sometimes have trouble… leaving the dream,” she said. “It’s like… it won’t let go.”

“Do you… often have dreams like that?”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That must be hard.”

She was still wiping away tears and he felt so helpless. He had no idea what to do in situations like this – but she had clearly been here before.

“I’m just going to need a moment,” she said. She took a few deep breaths, then started looking around the room, and he realized she was doing the same grounding exercise that she’d guided him through in the panic room, all those weeks ago.

He watched her as her eyes swept the room, noting what little of the furniture was visible in the light of the fire. Then she took another deep breath, breathing in the smell of dust and burning wood. Finally, she rubbed the fabric of his coat between her fingers. After that, she seemed a lot calmer, and she lay down again, allowing him to lie back down too.

“Better?” he asked her quietly.

“A little.” She turned to look at him. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “I wasn’t sleeping yet.”

“I’m afraid it might happen again,” she said apologetically. “I… I often get more than one nightmare a night. Though this one was particularly bad.”

He hesitated, then he said tentatively:

“Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head.

“No, I don’t want to bother you.”

“It wouldn’t bother me.”

“But it’s the middle of the night.”

“That’s alright. I’m not tired.”

She looked at him uncertainly, and he gave her an encouraging nod.

“Please. If you want to.”

“It’s… it’s not a happy story.”

He nodded.

“I assumed as much, if it’s giving you nightmares. But… maybe talking about it might help?”

She heaved a deep sigh, and he waited patiently for her to make a decision. There was a curious feeling of intimacy about the moment – the two of them here together, in the middle of the night, the flickering firelight creating a small island of light and warmth in the cold darkness that surrounded them. Aside from the crackling of the fire, the silence was absolute.

Finally, she started to speak.

“The nightmares are… bad memories that keep coming back,” she said. “I have them every night.”

He stayed silent, allowing her to continue at her own pace. Her eyes were sad and dark in the half-light of the fire.

“I… I told you about my ex-husband,” she said, but then she amended: “Well, technically he’ll only be my ex-husband once the divorce is final.”

“Is it normal for divorces to take this long?” he asked.

“He’s being difficult about it,” she said bitterly. “He didn’t want to get divorced. But I did.”

She hesitated, clearly looking for the right words.

“You see…” she said finally. “You see he… he’s not a nice person. He was at first, of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. We were fine for years. We fought sometimes, but who doesn’t. He could get rather angry, but I never worried about it until… until about two years ago.”

He had a feeling of where this was going now, and he didn’t like it at all.

“It happened really gradually. For weeks on end, nothing would happen. But then suddenly he’d get mad, and then he’d… he’d hurt me. Little things at first. Grabbing my arm. Pushing me against the wall. But it didn’t stop there. After a while, I couldn’t wear short sleeves anymore, because I’d always have a bruise _somewhere._ That… that went on for about a year and a half, just… slowly getting worse.”

He felt so bad for her as he realized what she must have been through – the pain and fear and loneliness of it. He knew it was something that he couldn’t even fully imagine, and that nothing he could say could make it better, so he stayed silent, just letting her talk.

“I was so stupid,” she whispered. “So, so stupid. It took me forever to realize what was going on.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she brushed it away.

“It was the broken wrist that did it” she continued. “Having to lie to the doctor in the emergency room about tripping and falling down. The eyes of the nurse when she took in the bruises on the rest of my arm. And then, when Alberto was out of the room for a moment, she said to me… she whispered… that they had resources to help abused women if I needed them.”

She shook her head and breathed out a sad little laugh.

“Maybe you won’t believe it, but I’d never thought of myself that way before that moment. An abused woman… I’d seen them, of course, I’m a cop after all. Nervous, beaten-down creatures. That wasn’t _me._ What was happening to me wasn’t _abuse_ , it was just… isolated incidents. Accidents. Things he said would never happen again.”

She swallowed.

“But that day in the emergency room, I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. For the first time, I looked back over the past year and a half, and I didn’t see isolated incidents. I saw a pattern. And when the nurse put that label on me, I saw that it fit.”

But now she turned her head and looked at him, and he saw a little flame kindle in her eyes.

“And I didn’t want it,” she said. “I refused to accept that that was who I was. An _abused woman._ No. Not me.”

She took a deep breath.

“That’s when I swore I would leave him.”

He looked at the fire in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but admire her strength, her resilience.

“That was really brave of you,” he said quietly.

Bitter lines appeared around her mouth.

“Yes,” she said, looking away from him again. “For the first time in my life, I was brave. I decided that I couldn’t just let him get away with what he did. And then… then it all backfired so spectacularly.”

He realized what she was alluding to. He’d asked her this question before, but he thought this time she might actually answer him.

“Raquel,” he said quietly. “Why are you here?”

She sighed, rubbing her free hand over her eyes, brushing away more tears before they could fall.

“You see,” she said, “what you need to know about my husband, is that he’s a cop too. We worked in the same station. That’s how we met. So after… after I left him, I went to my boss. _Our_ boss. The Commissioner. I told him what… what Alberto did. He didn’t believe me.”

Sergio frowned.

“Why wouldn’t he believe you?”

“He and Alberto are friends. I should have realized beforehand that he wouldn’t believe me. But I was stupid. I told him that an abuser like Alberto shouldn’t be allowed to work as a cop. I _demanded_ that he fired him. And that’s when I was sent here.”

Sergio shook his head in disbelief.

“I… I don’t understand. _Why_?”

“That’s what happens to difficult women on the force,” she said bitterly. “I’ve seen it before. Women with promising careers who complain about inappropriate behavior from a co-worker, and the next moment they’re shunted off to some dead-end job in a different department. I… I really don’t know why I thought it would be different for me. In hindsight, I can’t believe how stupid I was.”

He shook his head.

“No, you couldn’t have known how it would go.”

“I could, though,” she said sadly. “You see – in the police, loyalty is everything. Speaking up against a colleague is seen as treason. You become an outcast.”

“That’s… that’s _incredibly_ unfair.”

She looked at him and gave him a sad smile.

“Yeah. It is.”

Then her smile disappeared and she looked away.

“But you know what the worst part is? There are moments that I think that… that it isn’t so unfair after all. That I _deserve_ to be here.”

He stared at her.

“Raquel… why would you think that?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to get Alberto fired. Maybe that was a shitty thing to do.”

“But he _hurt_ you.”

She looked up, and there was a look of uncertainty in her eyes that broke his heart.

“Sometimes…” she whispered, “sometimes I wonder if it wasn’t that bad. If I’m remembering it worse than it was. If maybe… maybe I’m overreacting, maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

He couldn’t believe that she would say something like that.

“Raquel,” he said quietly. “He broke your wrist.”

She shook herself and took a deep breath, running a hand over her face.

“I know,” she said. “I _know._ Part of me knows well enough that it was bad, and that I was right to speak up about it. But… another part isn’t so sure.”

He wished he could say something to make things better, but he didn’t know what.

“For what it’s worth,” he tried, “I don’t think you deserve any of this.”

She gave him a grateful look.

“Thank you. Sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else.”

“I’m so sorry all of that happened to you,” he said, feeling like the words were terribly empty, but hoping that she could sense how much he meant them anyway. “So, so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s not your fault that I’m here.”

They fell silent, and he couldn’t look away from her. Suddenly it all made sense – why she’d been so angry when she first came to the house – why she was having nightmares – why she didn’t like to be touched. He looked at their linked hands, only inches apart, and he shook his head.

“Raquel,” he said. “Put me back by the radiator. This can’t be comfortable for you.”

She turned and looked at him with those dark eyes.

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The next moment, he looked on in wonder as she carefully moved her hand until it was right next to his. She hesitated for a moment, and he held his breath, not daring to move a muscle – then she lightly brushed her fingers against his. It was the merest touch, but it struck him deeply. He was honored that she trusted him like this.

“Thank you for listening,” she said softly.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Anytime, Raquel.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and he felt a new sense of closeness to her, a warm and wholehearted feeling that was very soft around the edges. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything like this before.

Finally he spoke again.

“You should try to go back to sleep.”

She nodded.

“Yes. I will. I’m sorry if I wake you up again at some point.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Goodnight, Salva.”

“Goodnight.”

He didn’t try to sleep this time. He knew the things she’d just told him wouldn’t allow him to fall asleep for a while. What a horrible thing to have happened to her. What it must have cost her to get through that, to find the strength to get out of the situation, and then the courage to raise her voice and speak up about it. The fact that her bravery had been met with such a reaction, that she’d been punished for it, made him so angry on her behalf. It was so deeply, painfully unfair. He wished with all his might that he could help her somehow, but he knew that there was nothing he could possibly do from his current situation.

She had fallen asleep again, and as he looked at her sleeping face, he couldn’t imagine how anyone could ever bring themselves to hurt her. Over the past weeks, he’d gotten to know her as such a wonderful person. Only now did he fully understand how horrible her situation was, and yet, in spite of it all, she had noticed how miserable he was and she’d reached out to him – she’d made sure he ate, and she’d brightened his days by teaching him how to cook and by allowing him to work on the Ortega case with her. When he’d been struggling, she’d comforted him more than once, even though she must have been struggling as well. She was compassionate, and warm, and so kind.

She seemed to be sleeping peacefully now, but he decided to keep an eye on her in case she had any more nightmares later. Perhaps he could wake her up before they got too bad. As he looked at her, he became aware of a curious longing to protect her, to keep her safe from any further harm. He wasn’t sure what to do with that feeling. It was completely new to him. So he just stayed up, hour after hour, putting more wood onto the fire at regular intervals, and watching over her as she slept.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people expressed their disappointment that Serquel didn't cuddle for warmth in the last chapter 😂 I understand! I love that trope too! But Raquel is still very traumatized after her marriage in this AU, and she's very sensitive to being touched. She only just touched Sergio for the first time in the last chapter, and that was a big step for her! She'll need more time before there can be any cuddling 😅
> 
> A big thank you to Bucanek, notprincehamlet, heartunderfire and Loreak for proof-reading the chapter and giving me feedback! 💗
> 
> And a big thank you to thegirloverseas who is still the best beta reader anyone could possibly wish for -- thoughtful, helpful, insightful -- and the best friend as well! Happy friendiversary! 😄💗
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! 😊 If you do, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! 💗

Raquel woke up the next morning because sunlight was pouring into the room. She felt unusually well-rested, and she realized that she’d slept much better than she had thought she would under the circumstances – her left arm was a little stiff and cold from keeping it stretched out all through the night, but other than that she felt warm and curiously light-hearted.

When she looked over at Salva, she saw that he was already awake, and suddenly she remembered waking up in the middle of the night and talking to him, and the light-hearted feeling vanished.

He turned his head and smiled at her.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied.

She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Their midnight conversation by the fire seemed like a dream now, and she wasn’t sure anymore that she should have told him the things she had. Her defenses had been low after the nightmare, and she’d still been half-asleep – now, in the clear, bright light of day, she felt rather embarrassed about telling him about her troubles, and scarily, painfully vulnerable now that he knew.

“How did you sleep?” he asked her quietly.

“I slept fine after… after I went back to sleep.”

“Any more nightmares?”

There was concern in his eyes, and she felt her embarrassment increase. He looked at her differently now that he knew. Did he think of her as a victim now? Did he pity her? Suddenly the familiar nasty little voice sounded in the back of her mind: _Isn’t that what you wanted? Pity? Isn’t that why you told him?_ Oh god, was that true? She should just have kept her mouth shut.

“No,” she said, looking away from him. “No more nightmares.”

She sat up and was distracted when she noticed that it was much warmer in the room than it had been last night, and when she looked over at the fire, she was surprised to see that it was still burning. When she turned to him to say something about it, she realized that he looked rather pale and tired, and she frowned as a sudden suspicion dawned on her.

“How did _you_ sleep?”

He avoided her gaze.

“I… uhm… I slept fine.”

She glanced at the brightly burning fire again, then back to the dark circles under his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

“No, not really.”

“How come?”

“Well… you see, ever since I came back from the hospital, I’ve been taking something to help me sleep in the evenings, but I forgot it last night. By the time I remembered, you were already asleep.”

“You should have woken me up!” she said.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, giving her a slight smile. “At least I could keep the fire going.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he seemed keen to change the subject.

“What time do you think the local police will be here to install the system for my ankle monitor?”

She considered him for a moment, then decided to let it go.

“I assume once they start working, so around nine o’clock. And Ramírez texted me that he’ll come bring us some supplies, but he doesn’t know what time he’ll get here.”

She glanced down at her watch – it was eight fifteen.

“Time to get up” she said. “I should go get some more firewood.”

When she unlocked the cuffs that linked their hands together, she supposed she should feel a sense of relief, but she didn’t. Being tied to him hadn’t been that bad at all – it hadn’t caused her any of the discomfort she’d been afraid she might feel. She suddenly remembered how she’d brushed her fingers against his after their conversation in the night. She wasn’t sure why she’d done it. She’d just felt such a soft sense of closeness to him in that moment and she’d wanted to express that somehow. It had felt… right. It still felt right.

She looked up at him.

“Thank you,” she said. “For last night. For listening to me.”

“No problem,” he said softly. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

He sounded so sincere that her feeling of embarrassment faded a little, to be replaced by a feeling of gratitude. They kept looking at each other for a moment. She wasn’t sure where to go from here – chaining him back to the radiator after last night seemed like a pretty shitty thing to do.

He seemed to be following her thoughts.

“What if I just came outside with you?” he suggested. “Then you can keep an eye on me, make sure I don’t run away. And I can help you carry in the firewood.”

When she’d asked him yesterday if he would stay if she let him go, she’d clearly seen him hesitate. There was none of that now.

“Yes,” she said, relieved. “That sounds like a good idea.”

They got up, and she looked around the room. Now that it was light and she could get a proper look at it for the first time, she saw that, despite the dust coating every surface, it was a pleasant room with lots of natural light, coming from French windows and doors that looked out over a large backyard, surrounded on all sides by forest.

“This is much nicer than the previous house,” Salva remarked beside her. “It even has a piano.”

She followed his gaze to see a small black upright piano standing against one of the walls.

“Fancy,” she smiled. “And a garden too – looks like we got an upgrade.”

“Yes,” he said. “A very dusty upgrade, though.”

“Then we know what to do for the next few days,” she said crisply. “Roll up our sleeves and clean.”

They went outside together and carried in armfuls of firewood, and she was glad to see that his injuries didn’t seem to bother him at all anymore. Then they dragged the mattresses back upstairs and each chose a bedroom. A little after nine o’clock, the doorbell rang and they opened it to a police officer carrying a little black box just like the one that had been next to the front door in the previous house. The man chatted away amiably as he installed it and connected it to Salva’s ankle monitor.

“Can you set it up so it includes the garden?” Raquel asked on an impulse.

“Sure,” the man said. “I’ll amplify the radius.”

Salva smiled and shot her a grateful look.

“It was nice of you to think of asking that” he said to her once the man had left. “Can we try it?”

“Sure,” she smiled.

They stepped out of the French doors together onto the terrace, and he took a deep breath of the cold morning air.

“You know, I was never much of an outdoors person, but after all these months, it feels good to be out in the sun.”

She nodded. In spite of the cold, it was incredibly nice to stand here in the sunshine, to smell earth and pine needles, and to hear the wind in the trees, after they’d spent ten weeks locked inside. She reflected that it was a little sad that they were both so excited about something that should have been completely normal. She hadn’t realized how much her perspective on things would shift during this assignment.

“Shall we explore the garden?” she suggested, and he nodded eagerly.

They started walking side by side, silent, the frosted grass crisp underneath their feet. She wasn’t sure when the silences between them had started feeling so comfortable – she was perfectly at ease with him now even when they weren’t talking. Perhaps last night hadn’t changed things as much as she’d feared it would. Perhaps she didn’t regret confiding in him after all.

“Do you hear that?” he suddenly said beside her.

They stopped and listened, and she heard it too.

“I think it’s running water. There must be a stream around here.”

They veered off course to the left side of the garden, where there was indeed a small mountain stream that was valiantly resisting the freezing temperatures. There was a delicate web of ice at its edges, but in the middle, the water still rushed and gurgled between rocks that dotted the stream like a path, beckoning invitingly. Raquel felt the curious lightness she’d woken up with stir inside her chest, and she turned to Salva with shining eyes.

“I think we can cross it.”

He gave her a look like she’d gone insane.

“Excuse me?”

“Look at those rocks. I think we can cross the water.”

He was looking at her with total incomprehension.

“But _why?”_

“To get to the other side,” she grinned.

“That doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Well, then… because it would be fun.”

“You think falling into near-freezing water would be _fun_?” he said drily. “May I remind you that we don’t have any heating or hot water in the house yet?”

“I won’t fall in,” she said, putting out a foot and testing the first rock. “It’s completely steady.”

Before he could protest any further, she pushed off from the shore and started hopping from rock to rock. They were rather slippery, and she had to be careful, but on the whole it wasn’t that hard, and she reached the other side with a slight feeling of exhilaration. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just for the fun of it – it seemed like years ago. Maybe it was. She turned to where Salva was standing with his arms crossed and a deeply doubtful expression on his face, and she gave him a wide grin.

“It’s easy,” she said. “Now you!”

He snorted.

“I hardly think so.”

“Are you scared?” she teased him.

He gave her an amused look.

“That won’t work on me, Inspector.”

“What _would_ work?” she asked him with a smile.

“Nothing, so save your breath.”

“Flattery?” she suggested. “Bribery?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“What would you even bribe me with?”

She cast around for something good.

“I’ll let you choose the movie tonight.”

“You know I don’t care what we watch.”

“I’ll let you choose dinner.”

“I don’t care what we eat either.”

She thought about it some more, then she suddenly remembered the chess set that she’d seen in his room – the one personal item he’d been allowed to bring.

“What if we didn’t watch a movie tonight,” she said. “What if we played a game?”

“I don’t really care for games.”

“What about the chess set you have?”

She’d clearly struck something. He stood up straighter, a look of interest appearing in his eyes.

“You want to play chess with me?”

“Sure,” she said. “If you cross the water.”

To her surprise, he actually glanced down at the stream, as if he was genuinely considering the crossing. He must really like chess. She wondered why he’d never asked her to play before.

Before he could make up his mind, however, there was a shout from the direction of the house, and Raquel looked up to see the figure of Ramírez coming around the side of the house, waving at them.

She raised her arm and waved back at him.

“We’ll be right there!” she called out, then she grinned at Salva. “Saved just in time.”

He shook his head at her, suppressing a smile.

“I wasn’t going to do it anyway. Now come back.”

She started crossing again, a little faster this time because Ramírez was waiting for them. Just when she was pushing off from the last rock to the shore, she slipped.

She gasped, expecting the sting of cold water, but instead, strong arms caught her and lifted her to the shore. Instinctively, she clutched at him, and when he carefully steadied her on the shore, her heart was beating fast and she felt rather flustered – that was a lot of close contact at once, and she hadn’t been expecting it. Before she could make up her mind about how she felt about it, however, she was distracted when she saw him grimace, and looked down to see him stepping out of the icy water.

She clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Oh no!” she said. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he said, a little breathless because of the cold. “I’m sorry for… for grabbing you like that. It was a reflex, I didn’t think… I know you don’t like…”

“It’s okay” she said, and she realized to her surprise that she meant it. She felt okay.

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said. “I am. Now let’s get you inside, quickly.”

She kept throwing him worried glances as they hurried back to the house, noticing how he was grimacing with every step.

“I’m really sorry,” she repeated. “You didn’t want anything to do with the water and now I made you step in.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and though his teeth were chattering slightly, it sounded like he meant it.

“Hi there,” Ramírez said as they came within earshot. Then he noticed Salva’s wet feet and his eyebrows went up.

“What happened to you?” he said.

“An unsuspected streak of chivalry,” Raquel smiled.

“I see,” Ramírez said drily. “Yeah, chivalry can be a bitch.”

Salva chuckled. Raquel was glad that he seemed to be taking it so well.

When they entered the house, Raquel noticed that Elena seemed to have been able to contact the power companies, because all the lights were on and there was a gurgling sound coming from the radiator. Soon, they wouldn’t need the fire anymore.

“You should go take a hot shower,” she said to Salva, and he nodded and left the room, leaving wet footprints in the dust in his wake.

“So,” Ramírez said, and she turned to him. “You had to move.”

“Yes,” she said. “Last night, very suddenly.”

He was looking around the room.

“This place sure is… uhm… quaint.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I feel like we’re a thousand miles from civilization.”

“Only a few miles from the nearest village, actually,” he said. “Though I’m not sure I’d call that ‘civilization’.”

“I didn’t think this place would still fall within your area of duty.”

“It doesn’t really,” Ramírez said. “But there’s no assigned witness handler for this area at all, since this is the only safe house in the mountains. I’m here to bring you some supplies: blankets and kitchen stuff and enough food for a few days.”

“Thank you,” Raquel said, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. “That’s great.”

“Someone from the local force will take over to bring you your groceries from now on, but I’ll still be the one to check on you by telephone.”

“Someone from the local force?” she said, frowning. “Are you sure they’ll be able to keep their mouth shut?”

“They won’t be given your names,” the handler assured her quickly. “So they won’t be able to tell anyone about you even if they wanted to.”

“I guess that’s alright then.”

She helped Ramírez bring in the blankets and several bags, then she stood by the front door as she watched him drive away. It didn’t feel nearly as painful as when he’d left them in their first safe house, and she vaguely wondered about that as she returned to the living room to see Salva enter too from the hallway, his hair wet.

“The shower needs a good scrubbing,” he said. “But at least the water’s warm.”

She watched him with a smile as he carefully placed his shoes in front of the fire to dry. She couldn’t believe he’d actually stepped into that icy water for her. She wasn’t sure if she deserved him being so nice to her.

“Did Ramírez bring something to eat?” he asked as he straightened up. “I’m starving.”

She smiled as she realized that he was finally showing an interest in food without her having to prompt him. That was a good sign.

“Yes,” she said. “There’s food in the kitchen.”

“Good,” he said, gesturing at the room in general. “If we’re going to tackle this mess, we’re going to need proper fuel.”

“You’re not tackling anything,” she said sternly, stepping closer to him. “After you’ve eaten, you’re going to take a nap.”

“Oh,” he said, “that’s really not…”

“Salva,” she said gently, “you’ve been up all night. You need to sleep.”

He didn’t need much persuasion.

“Alright,” he said with a slight smile. “If you insist.”

“I do,” she smiled back.

They were standing close together now in front of the fire, and she remembered how he had caught her earlier, how he had steadied her, his arm around her waist. It had only lasted a moment, but she was still surprised at how okay it had felt, how she hadn’t felt threatened or scared even for a moment. She looked at him, and she decided that she wanted to try something. Tentatively, she reached out a hand, and lightly placed it on his arm. It felt… natural. Nice, even.

“Thank you for catching me earlier”, she said.

He glanced down at her hand, but he didn’t move.

“It… it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Still,” she said. “It was a nice thing to do.”

As she pulled back her hand, she realized that she was strangely reluctant to let go of him. She wondered about it as they went into the kitchen and started preparing breakfast, but then she told herself that it was only normal. The need for physical touch was an innate part of being human, and she’d been completely isolated for months – of course she was hungry for human warmth. True, she was a little surprised at herself – she hadn’t thought that she’d feel comfortable touching anyone for a long while – but there was just something about him… As she glanced at him taking plates and cutlery out of the cupboards, she realized that she really trusted him. It was not something she took for granted.

…

Over the next three days, they cleaned the house from top to bottom, and the cleaner it got, the more Raquel liked it. Mopping the living room revealed nice wooden floors, and the kitchen was big and well-equipped, with flagstone floors and a really nice cooking range. The bedrooms upstairs were airy and comfortable, though they never seemed to get really warm, and the bathroom was old-fashioned but perfectly functional. All in all, Raquel felt like they’d made a good trade, especially considering the garden. Only the panic room wasn’t much nicer than it had been in their previous house, a cramped and airless space under the stairs in the hallway.

On the fourth day, when they were finally done cleaning, they were just about to sit down after lunch to start working on the Ortega case when the doorbell rang. Raquel looked up in surprise and frowned.

“That’s strange. We’re not expecting anyone.”

Salva looked up too.

“You don’t think…?”

“I highly doubt that Ortega would ring the doorbell,” Raquel said, but she kept her hand on her gun anyway as she got up and went to the front door.

When she looked through the little window set into the door, she saw a young police officer standing there, only about twenty-one or twenty-two years old, with sandy hair and a nice smile. She took her hand off of her gun and opened the door.

“Hi!” the young officer said brightly. “My name is Tomás. Or actually, well, it’s Officer Iglesias, but you can call me Tomás if you want.”

Raquel opened her mouth to greet him in return, but he didn’t give her a chance.

“You can’t tell me your name!” he said quickly. “I’m not supposed to know. That’s pretty cool, actually – this is the first big case I’ve ever gotten, we don’t get a lot of important stuff happening around here – or actually, I suppose it might not seem like a big case to you, because I heard you’re from Madrid so you must be used to much more exciting stuff, but up here it’s the biggest thing that’s happened in years. The entire station is talking about it. I’m pretty lucky they chose me. I only left the academy a few months ago.”

Raquel raised her eyebrows at the flood of words.

“Nice to meet you, Tomás,” she said as he stopped to take a breath. “I didn’t expect you until next week to get our groceries.”

“I thought I’d stop by to introduce myself,” he said cheerfully. “It’s my afternoon off and, you know, I was kind of curious to meet you.”

“Well,” she said, thinking that this was a rather nice coincidence. She’d been wondering how to arrange a certain thing, and now the solution had just presented itself so nicely. “Now that you’re here, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” the boy said eagerly. “Anything I can do to help.”

“I would like to go out to run some errands. Could you maybe stay here for an hour or so with our witness?”

The enthusiasm on his face was immediately replaced by apprehension.

“With… with the witness?” he said uncertainly.

“Yes,” Raquel said. “Is that a problem? Do you have to be somewhere?”

“No,” Tomás said carefully. “But isn’t he… you know, a prisoner?”

“He’s wearing an ankle monitor,” Raquel said. “So you don’t have to actually guard him. He can’t escape.”

“What… what did he do, exactly?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Raquel said. “That’s confidential information.”

The boy swallowed.

“Is he… uhm… dangerous?”

Raquel smiled as she thought of Salva, covering her with a blanket, giving her his coat, catching her as she slipped.

“No, he’s not dangerous,” she said. “Do you think I’d be alone with him all the time if he were? How would I sleep?”

The young officer did not seem entirely convinced, so Raquel continued.

“And besides, you’re wearing a gun, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, throwing a nervous look at the gun on his belt, “but I haven’t really used it much. Or… at all.”

“This will be good experience for you,” Raquel said briskly, opening the door further. “Come on in and I’ll introduce you.”

The boy threw an anxious look over his shoulder at the surrounding forests.

“What… what do I do if criminals show up?”

“That’s why we have a panic room,” Raquel said lightly. “So you don’t have anything to worry about.”

She ushered him inside and closed the door behind him with a smile. Oh, Salva was just going to _love_ him.

…

The boy was looking at him like he was a bomb that might explode any moment. Sergio wasn’t really happy about the situation either, but Raquel had said she wouldn’t be long, so he supposed he’d just have to be patient and make… small talk. Good lord.

“So,” he said, and the kid actually jumped a little. “Do you… do you live around here?”

“Yes, sir,” the young officer said – though Sergio had trouble thinking of this wide-eyed boy as an actual police officer. “I live in the village, just a few miles from here. Aratores. I was born there. Born and raised.”

Sergio noticed how the boy was still regarding him like he was some sort of dangerous animal.

“Do you get a lot of crime up here?” he asked carefully, strongly suspecting what the answer would be.

“No, sir,” the boy said promptly. “Not at all. We mostly get called out when people hit a deer on the road. Or a cow. I… I haven’t had much experience with actual crime.”

Yeah, Sergio thought. No kidding.

“But _you_ are hiding from some real big criminals, right?” the young officer said, a note of fascination creeping into his voice. “I mean, I know you can’t tell me, but I assume as much, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Sergio merely nodded, and the boy went on, his curiosity seeming to get the better of him now.

“Your… uhm… guardian said you have a panic room. Do you really?”

“Yes,” Sergio said, seeing where this was going. “Would you like to see it?”

“Yes,” Tomás said eagerly.

Sergio pointed at the door that led to the hallway.

“That way. It’s the door under the stairs.”

The boy got up and crossed the room, and Sergio had a few minutes of peace. He suddenly appreciated just how lucky he’d been to get Raquel as his assigned officer – the thought of being stuck in a house with someone like this boy instead made him shudder.

Tomás returned, looking impressed.

“That’s so cool. Have you had to use it?”

“We only got here a few days ago,” Sergio said. “But we did once use the one in our last location.”

Tomás’s eyes went wide.

“Did the criminals find you?”

“No, no,” Sergio said, shaking his head. “It was just a precaution.”

There was a pause, in which the boy kept staring at him, making him distinctly uncomfortable. When was Raquel coming back? He cast around for another topic of conversation.

“So, Tomás… can I ask why you decided to become a police officer?”

The boy shrugged.

“My dad’s a cop,” he said. “And my uncles. And… I don’t know, I guess I wanted to do some good in the world.”

“And you thought joining the police would be the best way to do that?”

“Well…” Tomás hesitated. “It’s easier than becoming a doctor.”

Sergio couldn’t argue with that.

“But aren’t you concerned with the ethical questions that arise in your line of work?”

The boy blinked.

“I’m… I’m not following.”

Sergio suppressed a smile.

“Well,” he said seriously, “there’s a certain moral aspect to your profession. How do you deal with questions of right and wrong?”

The young officer merely stared at him for a few moments.

“But I… I don’t have to decide that sort of stuff. We just follow the law.”

“Laws are social constructs that don’t account for individual circumstance,” Sergio said smoothly. “What do you do when the law tells you something is right or wrong, but you instinctively disagree?”

The boy looked so confused that Sergio took pity on him. He was about to change the subject, when they heard beeping coming from the key pad at the front door.

Tomás looked up, his eyes wide.

“Do you think that’s criminals?”

“Criminals wouldn’t have the code to the front door,” Sergio pointed out calmly.

A moment later, this was confirmed as Raquel walked into the room.

“How are we doing here?” she asked cheerfully.

“Good,” Sergio smiled. “We were just talking about moral relativism.”

She threw him a look of mock indignation.

“Don’t you go corrupting the local youth.”

He chuckled as she turned to her colleague.

“Tomás, could you help me get something out of the car, please?”

The boy jumped up immediately.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The next moment, he was out the door, and Sergio and Raquel exchanged amused looks before Raquel followed him out. She had told Sergio before she left that she was going out to buy a winter coat and gloves and such, so he wasn’t prepared for what she and Tomás carried inside a moment later. It was a Christmas tree.

He looked on with raised eyebrows as the two put the tree at a safe distance next to the fire.

“What’s this?” he asked Raquel as she turned back to him with a smile.

“A Christmas tree,” she said brightly.

“I see that,” he said, amused. “Are we just going to have a bare fir tree in the house?”

“Of course not,” she said, heading for the door again. “I brought decorations as well.”

She and Tomás brought in several bags and boxes, then the boy said he had to go, assured them that they could call him for anything, and left.

“He’s a nice boy,” Raquel smiled, looking after him. Then she turned around and opened a box to reveal red and white Christmas ornaments. “Alright, will you help me decorate the tree?”

Sergio pulled a string of lights out of one of the bags, noticing that the room was already filling with the pleasantly fresh scent of pine needles.

“Why did you do all of this, Raquel?”

“Well,” she said, starting to put the ornaments on the branches. “Since we’ll be stuck here for the holidays, I decided that we shouldn’t just sit around and be depressed because we can’t be home. We can have a proper Christmas, just the two of us. We’ll make a nice dinner, and sit around the fire, and enjoy the Christmas lights.”

Sergio had never cared much for Christmas, but he had to admit that this sounded rather nice.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in. But no Christmas music.”

She looked up in dismay.

“But that’s a part of it!”

“Raquel, those songs are awful.”

“Not all of them. I love ‘Silent Night’.”

“Veto,” he said, smiling slightly. “You can do whatever else you want and I’ll gladly go along, but no Christmas music.”

“Oh alright,” she sighed. “I suppose I can live with that. Put the lights over here – no, start a little higher.”

He drew in a sharp breath as he got pricked by the needles.

“Ouch! Those are sharp.”

She threw him an amused look.

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“You laugh,” he said in mock earnestness. “But decorating Christmas trees is actually a very dangerous pursuit.”

“Really?” she smiled, putting up another ornament. “How so?”

“So many things can go wrong,” he said. “Electrocution from faulty lights. Stepping on broken glass ornaments. The tree could catch fire. I could go on.”

“Don’t worry,” she winked at him. “I’ll protect you. That’s why I’m here, after all.”

“Thank you,” he grinned. “I appreciate that.”

They spent half an hour decorating the tree under Raquel’s direction, and Sergio realized that he was enjoying himself. Three months ago, after that terrible night, it had seemed like all the joy in life had been permanently extinguished, and he had felt like he would never enjoy anything ever again – but when he was with her, everything was better. There were still moments of darkness, especially right before he went to sleep, still moments when the memories crowded into his mind and made him despair, but there were also moments of light again, moments of calm, of acceptance, even of joy. Like now.

When they were finished decorating, they turned on the lights and stood back to watch the effect.

“It looks really nice,” Sergio said appreciatively.

“I agree,” Raquel said. “This is exactly what a Christmas tree should look like.”

…

That night after dinner, Sergio turned to Raquel.

“So, what shall we do tonight? A movie?” He smiled. “Maybe even a… Christmas movie?”

“That sounds tempting,” she smiled back. “But I was thinking… how about a game of chess?”

He looked at her in surprise.

“You want to play chess?”

She nodded.

“If you want to. You seemed quite enthusiastic when I mentioned it a few days ago by the stream.”

“But I didn’t cross it,” he said. “That was the deal.”

“Salva,” she smiled. “I was just teasing you back then. We can play chess without you having to do something in return. You do want to play, right?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “I’d really like that.”

“Why haven’t you ever asked me before?”

“I’m not sure” he said, suddenly wondering the same thing. “I’m so used to playing alone, I suppose it didn’t occur to me that I could play it with you.”

“Well,” she said, “how about I make us some tea and then we can go play by the fire.”

“Alright,” he smiled. “I’ll go get my set.”

When he returned, she was waiting for him in one of the chairs by the fire, a little table in front of her. He put down the board and set up the pieces with care.

“You can play white,” he said as he sat down in the opposite chair. “Have you played before?”

“Yes,” she said. “My father taught me the game as a child. We used to play all the time, but I stopped after he died.”

“Oh,” he said, giving her a tentative look. “Then… the memory isn’t too painful for you, is it? We don’t have to play.”

“No,” she smiled, her eyes warm. “No, this is nice. I’m ready to make some new memories.”

Sergio suddenly thought back to the last time he’d played with another person – the person who’d given him this set. He had to push the memory away, but when he looked at her smile, it wasn’t too hard. He was here now, with her, and they would make new memories.

“Are you ready to start?” she asked, and he shook himself and focused on the board.

“Yes,” he said. “White opens.”

They started playing, and Sergio noticed after only a few moves that she seemed to know what she was doing. Her father must have taught her well.

“So,” she said, shooting him an amused look as he was considering his next move. “You were talking to poor Tomás about moral relativism.”

He looked up, smiling.

“Yes. It happens to be a topic that interests me.”

She shook her head, still with that amused expression.

“You were only doing it to confuse him.”

He chuckled.

“He _was_ fairly confused, yes.”

“You should keep that sort of thing for someone of your own intellectual level.”

He watched her make a smart move with her knight.

“How about you?”

She looked up and smiled.

“Alright. I’ll gladly discuss moral relativism with you. I suppose you’re working off the assumption that morality is, indeed, relative?”

“It’s not an assumption,” he said. “It’s a fact.”

She laughed, and they happily started discussing the matter, pausing every once in a while whenever one of them needed to think about their next move in the game. Sergio was pleased to find that she was a skilled opponent both on the board and in the discussion, and he was enjoying himself immensely. About halfway through the game, he looked up at her as she was gazing down at the pieces, and he smiled. Her face was lit in a lovely way by the glow of the fire, and there was a frown of concentration between her brows. A lock of hair had come free from behind her ear, and he had to suppress a sudden impulse to reach out and tuck it back. The fire was crackling away in the hearth, bathing them in light and warmth, the lights of the Christmas tree were twinkling behind her, and they were discussing one of his favorite topics while playing chess. For just a moment, he completely forgot where he was and why he was there, and when he remembered, it wasn’t painful the way it usually was. He suddenly became aware of a curious feeling of deep contentment – and with it, an astonishing realization. He was still stuck in this house, still a prisoner, still unable to leave – but tonight, it didn’t matter. Because tonight, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. He only wanted to be here with her, and play.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could have posted today's chapter when it was actually Christmas, but I hope you'll still enjoy it 😊 Also, the remark about not getting snow in Madrid isn't exactly accurate now 😂 but I wrote this chapter before they got all that snow there 😅
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who's left a comment! 😘 I love reading your thoughts, thank you for sharing them with me! 💗
> 
> A big thank you to Loreak, Bucanek and notprincehamlet for reading the chapter and giving me feedback 💗
> 
> And a big thank you to thegirloverseas, who is, always, the best 💗
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! 🥰

Sergio woke up early on Christmas morning, and realized that he was looking forward to the day. The thought surprised him – he hadn’t enjoyed Christmas since he was a very small child, and he hadn’t expected the feeling ever to return. As he examined it a little closer, though, he wasn’t really sure if the anticipation he was feeling was due to his own expected enjoyment of the holiday, or because Raquel had been looking forward to it and her excitement had been contagious. Either way, he thought it would be a nice day, in a way that Christmas usually wasn’t for him, and he was pleased that he would get to share it with her.

It was still dark outside as he got dressed and went down the stairs, quietly, so as not to wake Raquel. Usually, they made breakfast together, but today he thought that it might be nice if she came down to see it waiting for her already. She had told him that she wanted a proper Christmas, and he wasn’t sure what that entailed for her, but he hoped that she would like this. Before he started in the kitchen, he went outside and collected some firewood from the shed. Most days, they only lit the fire in the evenings, but today was a special occasion.

When Raquel came down at their usual breakfast time, the fire was roaring, the Christmas lights were on, and the table in the living room was set for two. Her eyes went wide.

“What’s this?”

“Merry Christmas,” he smiled at her, gesturing at a chair. “You’re right on time.”

She walked over to the table.

“You made _pancakes_?”

“I tried,” he said as they sat down. “I used one of the recipe books we found in the kitchen, but I’d never made them before. I’m not sure they turned out the way they were supposed to.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she smiled, then she gave him a warm look. “This is so nice of you. Thank you.”

That look had been exactly what he had been hoping for, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“You’re welcome. I… I’m not sure how to do Christmas right, but I hope this is a good start.”

“It’s a perfect start,” she said, taking a sip of the orange juice he’d pressed. Then her eyes lit up and a sly look appeared on her face. “Though actually… there’s one thing missing.”

“Oh really?” he said carefully. He had a pretty good sense of where she was going.

“Yes,” she said lightly, “what would make this morning _really_ perfect is some Christmas music.”

He laughed. She had been trying to sway him about the Christmas music for the last two weeks, but he’d refused to give in – it wasn’t that he cared that much, but it had become something of a game between them, and he wasn’t about to let her win.

“No,” he said. “You know I hate it.”

“But it’s _Christmas!_ ”

“That doesn’t mean I suddenly want to listen to ‘Jingle Bells’.”

“Just one song?” she wheedled.

“No,” he said. “That’s a slippery slope. One song would inevitably turn into more.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but then she took a first bite from her pancake and that seemed to distract her.

“Oh, these are so good!”

He smiled in delight.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re forgiven for the music thing.”

“Thank you,” he said, amused. “You’re very gracious.”

They lingered for a while over breakfast. They had decided beforehand that they would take a break from working on the case today, so they were in no hurry to get up from the table. Only after their third cup of coffee did Raquel suggest that they should start, so they got up and cleared the table, then went into the kitchen. They didn’t have a lot of options for how to spend their day off, and neither of them liked the idea of doing nothing all day – they’d had enough of that over the past few months – so they had decided to spend the entire day cooking, to try and make some things that were more elaborate and that cost more time than the dishes they usually made. Tomás had brought them all the ingredients they had asked for from the grocery store, and they would have a proper Christmas dinner tonight, with appetizers, and a main course, and dessert.

Before any of that, though, they made Christmas cookies, using a recipe Raquel knew by heart, and soon the kitchen smelled delightfully of cinnamon and sugar. When the cookies came out of the oven, beautifully golden and smelling too good to be true, they were too impatient to wait for them to cool properly, and they laughed and hastily dropped them again as they burnt their fingers.

“I feel like I’m five years old again,” Raquel smiled, hopping up onto the kitchen counter to wait. “In my grandmother’s kitchen. Officially, me and my sister weren’t allowed to eat any of the Christmas cookies until the afternoon, but my grandmother always gave in and gave us just the one, still warm from the oven.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, leaning against the counter next to her. “Did you always celebrate Christmas with your grandparents?”

“Yes,” she said. “Right up until they died. What about you?”

“We didn’t celebrate Christmas for very long,” he said. “My… my mother died when I was still quite small, and after that, my father couldn’t seem to manage it anymore. I always got a present, but we never got a tree or anything.”

“That’s so sad,” she said softly. “It must have been hard for your father to lose her. Do you remember anything about the Christmases you spent with your mother?”

He suddenly had a vivid memory of a smiling woman, bending down to kiss his fingers after he’d pricked them on the pine needles of the tree they were decorating. He remembered a bright red gift underneath that tree, which he’d so desperately wanted to unwrap, though now he couldn’t remember what had been in it. He remembered being allowed two helpings of dessert and then falling asleep on his mother’s lap afterwards.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I remember them. Though… though only bits and pieces.”

“There’s something magical about childhood Christmases, don’t you think?” Raquel said, looking dreamily into the distance. “Somehow, as I grew older, I was never really able to recreate that magic.”

“Why do you think that is?” he asked, caught by her mood.

“I’m not sure,” she said, absent-mindedly nudging a cookie to see if it was cool yet. “I think we lose our capacity for wonder.”

Then she smiled at him.

“But on the plus side,” she said brightly, “we can eat as many cookies as we want.”

“That’s a very good point,” he smiled back at her, watching her pick up a cookie and take a bite. “How are they?”

She closed her eyes with an expression of bliss.

“Perfect.”

…

They only stopped for a light lunch, then they went back to the kitchen, working amiably side by side at the counter throughout the afternoon. It was a cold, cloudy day outside, but the kitchen was bright and warm and filled with the smells of a variety of dishes cooking in the oven or on the stove. Raquel was in a great mood, humming as she worked, keeping an eye on Sergio and giving him directions where necessary, making sure nothing got burnt or spoiled. He didn’t know how she could possibly prepare so many dishes at the same time while keeping an eye on him as well, but somehow she managed it with ease, and he didn’t doubt for a moment that the result would be amazing.

About halfway through the afternoon, her phone rang, and she threw a look at it and smiled.

“It’s my mother,” she said. “Can you keep an eye on the soup and stir every few minutes?”

“Sure,” he said, leaving the vegetables he was chopping to take her place at the stove.

She pressed the phone to her ear and walked towards the living room.

“Hi, mamá,” he heard her say. “Merry Christmas!”

For the next ten minutes or so, he kept his attention on the soup, stirring it constantly out of fear that it might burn otherwise. He was relieved when Raquel came back in – but then he noticed that her mood seemed to have shifted and she was no longer smiling.

“What’s wrong?” he said. “Is your mother alright?”

“Yes,” she said, coming to stand beside him and taking the ladle from his hand. “She was… the same as usual.”

She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, but it was clear that _something_ was wrong. He wondered if he should ask again, but then he realized what it must be – she was homesick. Her mother calling had reminded her of the fact that she couldn’t spend Christmas at home, and she missed her family.

“Raquel,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here today. I… I know you’d rather be at home.”

She kept looking down at the soup as she stirred.

“It’s okay,” she said.

Yet she remained subdued as they continued cooking, and he kept shooting her concerned glances out of the corner of his eye, not knowing what to say to make her feel better.

Towards the end of the afternoon, however, something happened that distracted her and lifted her spirits again. Outside, the December twilight had come early, turning the light a soft shade of blue, and at a certain point, Raquel glanced out the window, then put a hand on his arm in a seemingly unconscious gesture.

“Look!” she said. “It’s snowing!”

It was, indeed, snowing, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. He glanced down at her hand on his arm, and there was a curious feeling in his stomach. Ever since she had first brushed her fingers against his two weeks ago, some invisible barrier seemed to have fallen away between them, and she had been touching him more and more often – small things, just a hand on his arm to get his attention, or a brush of her shoulder against his as she passed him in the kitchen, but he noticed them all. He never touched her in return, allowing her to decide when and how it happened, but he loved those moments, because he took them to mean that she was comfortable around him, that she trusted him, and he was so pleased about that. He loved that she now seemed to be reaching out to touch him without even thinking about it anymore.

She looked at him for a response, and he quickly turned his attention to the window.

“Yes,” he said. “It really is snowing.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to have a white Christmas,” she smiled, then looked at him with excitement. “Shall we go outside?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it’s snowing.”

He didn’t feel like that answered his question, but if it would make her happy to go outside because it was snowing, then they were going outside.

“Alright,” he smiled.

They put on their coats, then went outside into the backyard, where the snow was floating down gently. The ground was already covered with a thin layer, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

“Oh, don’t you love the snow?” she sighed happily. “We almost never get any in Madrid, and even when we do, it never lasts long. But I think we might see some proper snow up here this winter.”

They stood side by side on the terrace, watching the white flakes come down and down, covering the grass, the shed, the trees. Sergio kept glancing sideways at Raquel through the bluish twilight. As he noted her shining eyes, and the way the snowflakes were swirling around her, he reflected that perhaps he was rediscovering his childhood capacity for wonder, because this moment felt pretty magical to him.

…

Dinner was a great success. They started off with a large number of tapas: freshly-baked bread, olives stuffed with feta cheese, little savory empanadas, chorizo, fried calamari, the best Serrano ham, and a plateful of patatas bravas, slightly spicy and delicious. Then there was a creamy tomato soup, and for the main course, a whole oven-baked _dorada_ fish with lemon and herbs, served with sautéed vegetables. For dessert, they had made their own _turrón_ with honey and almonds, so soft that it melted in their mouths. To accompany the food, they opened a bottle of white wine, which had been their Christmas gift from Tomás.

“I’m not really supposed to drink seeing as I’m on duty,” Raquel said, smiling as she poured them both a glass. “But I’m sure one glass can’t hurt.”

One glass turned into two, and soon they were both relaxed and in a very good mood as they made their way through one course after another, all of them rich and utterly delicious. When they simply couldn’t eat any more, they piled the dirty dishes in the sink in the kitchen, to be washed tomorrow, and let themselves fall into the armchairs in front of the fire.

Raquel leaned back with a happy sigh, a hand on her stomach.

“Oh,” she said. “That was so good. I can’t remember when I last ate this much.”

“I know,” Sergio nodded. “I feel like I won’t have to eat again until New Year’s.”

“And yet we have all these leftovers,” Raquel said. “We’ll be eating Christmas dinner for days.”

“I can’t say I mind that at all,” Sergio said appreciatively. “Though if Inspector González doesn’t find Ortega soon, you’ll be able to roll me out the door by the time we get to leave.”

Raquel started laughing, but then she clutched her stomach and groaned.

“Don’t make me laugh, Salva” she said. “I’m too full to laugh.”

Lately, her using his fake name had started feeling jarring, and it felt particularly unpleasant today. He rather wished she wouldn’t call him that anymore – it was a lie standing between them, and it was starting to bother him. There was nothing he could do about it, however, so he pushed the feeling away.

They were companionably silent for a few minutes. Raquel was looking dreamily into the flames in the hearth, which were crackling in a very cozy way.

“Salva,” she said after a while, “how would you have spent this day if you hadn’t been here?”

He shrugged.

“The same way I would have spent any other day,” he said. “Working. Putting something in the microwave for dinner. Then reading. Then bed.”

She turned to look at him.

“You mean… you wouldn’t have celebrated at all?”

“No,” he said. “What would be the point? It’s always been only me.”

“I know your parents died when you were young, but don’t you have any other family to celebrate with?”

He hesitated, then continued in a careful tone.

“The rest of my family lives abroad. We’ve celebrated Christmas together occasionally, but certainly not always.”

“What about friends?”

“Nobody I’d celebrate Christmas with.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“No.”

She gave him a tentative look.

“You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to, but… have you had any relationships at all? Significant ones, I mean?”

He sighed and looked into the fire.

“I’ve had a few relationships in my twenties,” he said. “But not very many, and they never lasted long. Nothing I’d call significant, no.”

“How come?” she said gently, and he realized that she wasn’t just asking out of curiosity, but out of genuine interest, so he tried to give her an honest answer.

“I’m not sure,” he frowned. “I’ve just never been able to… connect… with anyone. But it’s okay,” he quickly added. “I’ve never really wanted to either.”

When he glanced over at her, he saw that she was looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

“What?” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “You know best what you’re feeling, of course, and you may be aromantic and that’s fine. But I think that’s a very fundamental human thing.”

“What is?”

“The longing for connection,” she said. “I think we all want that, one way or another.”

He suddenly felt a twinge of something he hadn’t expected to feel at all. He thought he’d lost that longing long ago, but at her words he suddenly felt something stir in his chest, something that was deep and painful and that had been buried for a very long time, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He tried to push it down again – he didn’t want it – it could only cause him pain.

“Yes, well,” he said stiffly, trying not to show how he was struggling with himself. “For some people, true connection to others is not an option.”

“Do you think that’s true for you?” she said softly.

She was making it worse. He _knew_ that was true for him, she shouldn’t suggest that it wasn’t. Other people were strange to him – they were loud and they made him uncomfortable, and he’d always felt distant from others, separate somehow. He’d never loved anyone outside of his family – though now, a little voice inside his head was telling him that maybe that was because he’d never allowed anyone to come close. He didn’t want to listen to that voice. He didn’t want to think about this at all.

“Can we change the subject?” he said, his voice strained, and she nodded.

“Of course. But for the record… I don’t think you’re beyond connection.”

Her words touched him unexpectedly deeply. To hear that, from someone like her, when she was so wonderful, so full of warmth – so different from himself – it almost made him believe that it might be true.

“Thank you,” he said softly, and as he looked at her, the feeling in his chest intensified – but then he shook himself – this was all too much – he cast around for a different topic.

“Enough about me,” he said, in a lighter tone. “What about you? How would you have celebrated today if you hadn’t been here?”

She leaned back in her chair and looked into the fire.

“Much the same way we did,” she said. “Except with my mother and sister.”

Her mood had shifted, her expression now tinged with sadness, and he suddenly regretted bringing up the subject.

“You must miss them,” he said softly.

She gave a subdued nod.

“Mostly my mother,” she said. “When… when I talked to her earlier on the phone, she kept forgetting that I wouldn’t be home tonight to celebrate with them.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling so sad for her, wishing that she could have gone home today at least. “That must have been hard to hear.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Yes. And then I talked to my sister for a moment, and she said… she said mother’s getting worse. Not… not very fast, but she’s more often confused. Soon she’s going to have fewer and fewer lucid days and I’m… and I’m not there. Who knows how much worse she will have gotten by the time I get back home. She’s slipping away and I’m missing the chance to spend time with her while I still can.”

She was clearly struggling not to cry now, and he wished that he could reach out to her, that he could comfort her somehow.

“Raquel,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

She sighed and ran a hand over her face.

“I don’t know. We were having such a nice day, and I guess that I didn’t want to spoil that by bothering you with my issues.”

“You don’t bother me,” he said. “You could never bother me. You shouldn’t have to bear something like that alone.”

She gave him a soft look.

“Thank you, Salva,” she said. “That’s sweet of you.”

He looked at her for a long moment, noting the sadness in her eyes. He suddenly felt a return of the feeling of unease he’d had earlier about her calling him by his fake name – it was stronger now, the unease turning into a feeling of guilt, because she was opening up to him about her life, she was confiding in him, while there were big parts of his own life he just couldn’t share with her, no matter how much he wanted to. Like before, however, he realized that there was nothing he could do about it, so he chose to push the feeling away and focus on the things he _could_ do.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked her. “Something to help you feel better?”

She gave him a slight smile.

“I don’t know… let’s just talk about something else, or… or play a game or something. Some distraction would be nice.”

He suddenly had an idea. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but it was worth a try, so he got up, walked towards the piano that was standing against the wall, and opened the lid.

Raquel sat up in her chair.

“Wait… you know how to play that thing?”

“A little,” he murmured, carefully sounding out a few notes to see how it sounded. The sound was a little off, but it wasn’t too bad.

Raquel was looking at him in disbelief.

“We’ve been here for two weeks and you never thought to mention that?”

“I haven’t played in a long time,” he said, sitting down on the piano bench. “I just hope I haven’t forgotten how to do it.”

But the moment he placed his hands on the keys, he knew that he hadn’t forgotten. He struck the first chord, softly, then a sweet melody started flowing.

“Oh,” Raquel breathed as she recognized it. “Silent Night. I love that song… But Salva… you didn’t want any Christmas music.”

He didn’t reply, he just kept playing. She got up from her chair and slowly walked towards him, and to his delight, she sat down next to him on the little bench. She wasn’t touching him, but she was very close, and he didn’t move, he just kept playing note after note, acutely aware of her nearness.

She was listening with a soft expression on her face, and he didn’t want the song to end, he wanted her to stay next to him – but end it did. When it was over, she didn’t get up.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He looked up at her, and she was smiling at him. He swallowed hard. She was very close.

“I’m… I’m afraid I’m a little rusty,” he said.

“Nonsense,” she said quietly. “You played beautifully.”

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

“This was very sweet of you.”

He looked into her eyes, and suddenly, he felt it. It was new and tender and breakable, but he _felt_ it, and he thought she felt it too. Connection. He suddenly realized that it had been there for a while, and he couldn’t believe that he was only noticing it now: that, in spite of these strange circumstances they were in, they had connected to each other somehow, in a way that was wordless and true. He didn’t know what to do with that realization – he just knew that he wanted to hold on to the feeling.

Then she abruptly pulled back her hand and looked away.

“It’s late,” she said, and there was something in her voice that he couldn’t quite place. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Yes,” he said, feeling rather disappointed as she got up from beside him, but trying not to show it. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He got up too, and they turned off the lights and climbed the stairs together in silence, a sudden awkwardness between them that he didn’t understand. He had a distinct feeling of let-down when she didn’t look at him at all as she wished him goodnight, and he went into his bedroom and sat down on his bed feeling confused and worried. Had he done something wrong? Had he made her uncomfortable? Perhaps he shouldn’t have looked at her like that, perhaps she hadn’t felt what he was feeling at all, perhaps he was just imagining things. He had no experience with a friendship like this, with the kind of closeness that they had developed over the past few weeks, and he had no idea if it was as significant to her as it was to him, or if she was just making the best out of a bad situation. He wished he could talk to her. He didn’t know what he would say, he didn’t know how to even broach the topic – he just knew that he didn’t want to end the evening like this.

He was just about to get up when there was a soft knock on his door, and he quickly crossed the room to open it. Raquel was standing there, still dressed, looking up at him with those dark eyes.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Salva,” she said. “I was just thinking… this was such a nice day, and I don’t want it to end like this.”

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked her softly. “Please tell me if I did.”

“No,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. “No, not at all. It’s just… don’t you ever think that it might not be a good idea for us to be friends like this?”

He frowned at her.

“Why shouldn’t we be friends?”

She sighed and looked away, searching for the right words.

“I don’t mean that we shouldn’t be _friendly_ ,” she said. “But… but this is my _job._ I’m here as a professional, I’m not supposed to… to get _emotionally attached_ to you. And I am.”

So he wasn’t just imagining things – she felt it too. He felt inordinately happy about that, but he also understood her dilemma. He considered her for a moment.

“Look,” he finally said, “these are extraordinary circumstances. We’ve been stuck in a house together for months, and we’ll likely be stuck for a few months more, so what else should we do? Just… keep a polite distance from each other?”

She sighed and nodded.

“I know what you mean. If you put two people together who are naturally inclined to like each other, of course they’re going to become friends. It’s human nature.”

“Exactly.” He was struggling with himself – putting his feelings into words had never been his strong suit, but this was too important not to try. “And the thing is… I’ve never really had… friends… before. Not… not like this. I never really wanted any. But now… here… I don’t know about you, but… I’m really happy to have a friend. I was… so miserable before.”

She nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

“So then… it’s just the two of us here. Why don’t we decide what’s right or wrong?”

She chuckled.

“There’s that moral relativism again. Alright. I guess I agree with you.”

He felt a surge of relief.

“So we can just… stay friends?”

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s just be friends and not worry about it.”

They smiled at each other – warm, happy smiles.

“I’m glad you came to talk to me”, he said.

“Me too. It would have been a pity to end our Christmas like that.”

He nodded.

“Agreed. I didn’t even get a chance to thank you.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“What for?”

“For today. All of it. This was… the best Christmas I’ve had since I was very small, and it’s all thanks to you.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Yes,” she said. “It was rather perfect, wasn’t it?”

Then her eyes went soft.

“I’m glad I got to spend it with you.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “Me too.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, then she shook herself and gave him one last smile.

“Alright,” she said. “Goodnight, Salva.”

“Goodnight, Raquel.”

She turned and walked back to her own bedroom, leaving him with that wonderfully warm feeling that he’d felt earlier at the piano. She’d called it emotional attachment, and that was it exactly. He wondered for a moment where this feeling of attachment had suddenly come from, when he’d always felt so completely isolated from other people. Was it simply a result of spending so much time stuck in one house together? Could it have happened with someone else as well, or was there something special about her? He was inclined to think that the latter was true, but then he decided that it didn’t matter. The fact was that, for the first time in his life, he was experiencing a true sense of connection to a person outside of his family, and he now knew that it was mutual, that she felt it too, and that was just wonderful. Really, he thought – smiling as he started putting on his pajamas – he couldn’t imagine a better Christmas present.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who's left a comment so far: thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💖 You're the reason I keep writing 🥰
> 
> A big thank you to notprincehamlet, Bucanek and Loreak for reading the chapter in advance and giving me feedback! 💗
> 
> Even the biggest thank you in the world would not be enough to thank thegirloverseas for everything she does for me. I feel like, at this point, I should probably name my firstborn after her 😅😂 Not only is she the best beta reader in the world -- she's also my best friend. Thank you for everything 💗💗💗
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! 😊

Once it started snowing, it didn’t stop. When Raquel woke up the following morning and looked out of the window, the garden looked like a Christmas card: the grass, the trees, the bushes, everything was covered in a thick carpet of white, and the snow was still coming down in big, fluffy flakes. She couldn’t stop smiling as she got dressed. She wasn’t sure why – perhaps it was the snow, which she loved. Or perhaps it was the lovely Christmas she’d had yesterday with Salva, or the conversation they’d had in the evening. He was right, of course – it made no sense to resist their friendship, and she felt a distinct sense of relief that they’d agreed on that and that she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. At the beginning of this assignment, she never could have anticipated that their relationship would develop like this, that she would start to like him and appreciate his company this much – but here they were, and she didn’t think she would be able to stop being friends with him even if she tried.

She thought back to the moment they had shared behind the piano yesterday. She’d suddenly realized how close they had gotten, and it had unsettled her – not only was it deeply unprofessional, but it was scary, too. During the past two years, as things with Alberto had gotten worse, she had gradually become isolated from her friends and family because she had been trying to hide what was happening – she had learned to keep her secrets close, and she hadn’t dared to confide in anyone. Now, with Salva, she was opening herself up again to another person for the first time, and it made her feel terribly vulnerable, like she wasn’t protecting herself properly, like she should be more careful not to get hurt. The nasty little voice in the back of her mind told her that this would end badly, that she was doing something stupid, but she pushed it away. Instead, she chose to focus on the sense of connection she had felt, a connection that was warm and wonderful, and that she found impossible to resist, so she decided not to even try resisting it, and just have faith that he wouldn’t break her trust.

She left her room and went downstairs with a smile and a warm sense of anticipation – she looked forward to spending another day with him.

When they started working that morning, she had trouble keeping her mind on the case – the snow-covered garden looked so enticing, and she kept glancing at it through the windows. Salva soon noticed.

“Do you want to go outside?” he smiled.

She shook herself and turned back to her laptop.

“No,” she said, “no, we’re working.”

“We can take a break.”

“But we didn’t work all day yesterday.”

“Raquel,” he said reasonably, “we’re doing this voluntarily. We’re not obligated to do any of this work at all. If we want to take a break, we can take a break.”

She glanced out the window again, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Well… it did stop snowing… who knows how long that will last.”

“Then we should take advantage of the situation,” he said, getting up. “Let’s get our coats.”

As they stepped out of the French doors onto the terrace, a wintery sun was just breaking through the clouds to illuminate a pristine field of pure white, the light bouncing off the snow crystals to make them sparkle like tiny diamonds.

“There’s something uniquely beautiful about snow, don’t you think?” Raquel said, her breath forming a little cloud in the cold air.

Salva nodded as he surveyed the garden.

“Absolutely. And something tempting as well.”

“I know what you mean,” Raquel smiled, taking a step forward, feeling and hearing the snow creak underneath her feet. “Walking across an expanse of unspoiled snow is just so _satisfying.”_

She walked another few steps just so she could look back at her trail of footprints. When she turned back to Salva, he was looking off to the side of the garden, where a rabbit was just running into the underbrush. She smiled and bent down to gather a handful of snow.

“Salva!”

He turned to her, and the snowball hit him right in the middle of his chest. His look of surprise was so complete that she burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” she grinned. “With snow like this, you just _have_ to make snowballs.”

“I would have expected more restraint from you, Inspector,” he said with mock indignation as he brushed the snow off his coat.

“Why?” she said, amused.

“Well, because you’re an adult, and a police officer, and a mature…”

Three snowballs hit his coat in quick succession.

“Hey!” he laughed, raising his hands defensively. “Stop that!”

“I don’t think I will,” she grinned, aiming another handful of snow underneath his raised hands.

“I thought you were supposed to protect me!”

They were both laughing now – oh, it had been _years_ since she’d had fun like this.

“Defend yourself!” she said, hitting him on the shoulder with another snowball.

“Oh,” he said, throwing the snow on the ground a doubtful look. “No, I don’t think so.”

She stopped throwing and straightened up.

“Go on,” she said encouragingly. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head.

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she smiled. “It’s just snow.”

“What if I hit you in the face?”

She laughed.

“I’ll survive. Go on!”

He gave her an uncertain look, then bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. He pressed it together a little, then he stood frowning at it.

She spread her arms invitingly.

“Alright, now throw it.”

He looked up and considered her for a long moment, and she braced for the impact, but then he gave her an embarrassed smile and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Raquel, I just can’t do it.”

He held out his hand.

“You take it.”

Something in her chest felt very soft as she looked at him, offering her the snowball because he just couldn’t bring himself to throw it at her. He was so different from most of the men she knew – in a wonderful way.

“You’re very cute, you know that?” she smiled, walking towards him and taking the snowball from his hand.

He chuckled and pushed his glasses up his nose in an embarrassed gesture, and he was so sweet that suddenly she wanted to stand up on her toes and press a kiss to his cheek. The impulse came out of nowhere, and it startled and confused her, so she quickly pushed it away and took a few steps back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, not looking at him. “I… I think I’ve thrown enough snow for now. Do you want to go back inside?”

“Well, actually,” he said, and the smile in his voice made her look up. “I was looking at this nice white field of snow and I was thinking… don’t you think it looks a bit like a blank canvas? What if we made a pattern on it with our footprints?”

She smiled in delight, her discomfort forgotten.

“I love that idea! What kind of pattern did you have in mind?”

He made a suggestion, and she smiled and nodded.

“Alright,” she said. “How big?”

“I think we should use the entire garden.”

She nodded, and they walked in opposite directions to give each other some space. Raquel started with a long, straight line all the way to the back of the garden, then she made a big curve, and she ended with another line. Salva, in the meantime, had walked a different pattern. They met again on the terrace and looked back out over their work.

“They’re too big,” Raquel said. “You can’t really see the pattern properly.”

“Then we need a different perspective,” he said.

So they went inside and climbed the stairs, then looked out of Salva’s bedroom window. Raquel couldn’t help but smile as she looked down into the garden, where a big R and a big S were drawn side by side in their footprints, clearly visible in the snow.

…

It started snowing again the next day, and in the afternoon, to their surprise, Tomás suddenly showed up in his car.

“What are you doing here, Tomás?” Raquel asked as she opened the door. “You just brought us our groceries two days ago, we still have plenty left.”

“I thought this would be best,” the boy said, handing her several bags. “The weather forecast says it’s going to keep snowing for days, and the road from the village to this house is going to be blocked soon.”

“You mean… we’ll be snowed in?” Raquel said, a little dismayed.

“Very probably. The snow plows will focus on keeping the bigger roads clear, and they’ll have their hands full doing that as long as the snow keeps falling. Once it stops, though, they’ll get to your road too.”

Salva had come out of the living room and had caught the last of the conversation.

“And how long will that take?” he asked, taking the bags from Raquel.

Tomás shrugged.

“A couple days, a couple weeks, who knows. Don’t worry though, I’ve brought you plenty of supplies – lots of canned goods and stuff you can keep in the freezer. You should be good until spring, if necessary, though it probably won’t take that long.”

They helped the boy carry in bag after bag of supplies, then they watched him drive away at a snail’s pace over the slippery road. The snow was coming down hard.

The weather forecast turned out to be right – it didn’t stop snowing for days. At first, Raquel felt a little uneasy at the thought of being snowed in, but as the snow deepened and the road became impassable, a deep and wonderful sense of peace settled over the house and over Raquel herself. She realized that there was no way for anyone to get to them now, and for the first time in months, they didn’t have to worry about Ortega finding them. Only now that the threat fell away did she realize how much it had been weighing on her, however unconsciously. As she went through the days, she felt lighter, freer, more relaxed. She started sleeping better, with fewer and fewer nightmares every night. For the first time in years, she felt safe. At first, the feeling unsettled her – it felt wrong, somehow, like she couldn’t trust it, like it was trying to lull her into a false sense of security. She kept expecting something bad to happen, but nothing did, so over the days, she began to trust the feeling, and to enjoy it.

In their protective bubble of snow, it felt like she and Salva were the only two people in the world, and she didn’t mind it at all. They settled into a comfortable rhythm together – working on the case in the mornings, then going outside in the afternoon for some fresh air. They found shovels in the shed and kept paths clear in the snow so they could walk around the garden until they were half frozen, then they went back inside to thaw out in front of the fire with mugs of hot chocolate. They spent their evenings in front of the hearth as well, and there was something unimaginably cozy about sitting in front of a roaring fire with warm drinks as outside the snow kept falling. Often, neither of them wanted to go to bed, so they stayed up late, talking or playing chess until deep into the night. One such evening, Raquel came to the surprising realization that she was actually quite pleased with the situation – that, if she really thought about it, there was a part of her that didn’t want the snow to melt. Unimaginable as it would seem under their current circumstances, she liked the way they were living now, just she and him. She couldn’t quite believe it, but… she was happy.

…

Sergio had never lived like this. The laughter, the easy companionship, the midnight conversations – it was all new to him, and he discovered to his considerable surprise that he loved it. Only a few months ago, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine spending so much time with another person, yet now he spent almost every minute of every day with Raquel, and he never grew tired of her company. Every morning, he woke up looking forward to seeing her, and in the evenings, he never wanted to stop talking to her. The feeling of connection he’d become aware of over Christmas was with him constantly, and he enjoyed it in a very conscious way. It seemed to be becoming stronger over the days, resonating in his chest whenever she smiled at him, whenever they laughed together, whenever they had a personal conversation late at night in front of the fire. When she confided in him how the snow was making her feel safe for the first time in years, he wished it would never melt.

He realized that he was coming to know her better than he had ever known a friend before. More and more, it bothered him that he couldn’t offer her the same openness in return, that there were parts of his life that he couldn’t talk about because he was still hiding behind this fake identity he’d constructed for himself. In the warm intimacy they were building, it felt wrong to keep things from her, it felt like lying, and it was increasingly difficult not to accidentally let something slip. Every time she called him by his fake name, his discomfort grew, but he didn’t know how to fix this. If he told her the truth about himself, she’d be obligated to tell Inspector González, and he’d be charged with obstruction of justice. Moreover, his real name and identity would go into the system – something he’d worked so hard to avoid for so many years. So he just tried to ignore the growing feeling of unease, and he focused on enjoying his time with her. There was so much to enjoy.

On New Year’s eve, they baked sugary almond cookies and ate them still warm from the oven, then they made hot mulled wine with cinnamon, sugar, vanilla, cloves and clementine juice. They drank it at midnight from steaming mugs, standing in front of the window, watching the fireworks that were set off from the village, lighting up the night sky with red and green and gold sparks.

“Happy New Year, Salva,” she said.

“Happy New Year, Raquel. I hope the next year will be better for you than the last.”

She smiled at him. How he liked her smile.

“Well, I feel like it’s off to a pretty good start,” she said.

She held up her mug to him, and he clinked his against it, a warm feeling in his chest, and thought that he couldn’t agree with her more.

…

The first weeks of January were quiet and peaceful. The snow kept falling steadily, and they kept to their routine, so one evening, they sat down in front of the fire to play chess, as they did so often. Over the course of several weeks of regular play, they had found that they were quite well-matched – at first, Sergio had won the majority of their games, but lately Raquel was winning more and more often. He thought that it must be because she hadn’t played in years and it had taken her a while to get into her stride, though there was also the small issue that he was feeling increasingly distracted as they played. He wasn’t entirely sure why – he just knew that he was spending more time looking at _her_ than at the board, which couldn’t be great for his strategy.

That evening, Raquel played white as always, and she was the first to capture a piece. When she removed the black pawn from the board, it accidentally dropped to the floor, and when she picked it back up, Sergio saw her frown.

“Salva…” she said. “Why does it say ‘viva la resistencia’ at the bottom of this pawn?”

He knew she would have noticed the words eventually if they kept playing with this set.

“Well,” he said, “it’s a reminder to keep resisting.”

She looked up at him.

“Resisting what?”

“The system,” he said simply.

“What do you mean by ‘the system’?”

“You know… the government… the police… capitalism in general.”

She gave him an amused look.

“Are you an anarchist?”

He smiled.

“Something like that, yes.”

“Why did you put that slogan on the bottom of a chess piece?”

They had gotten so comfortable around each other. He spoke without thinking.

“I didn’t. It was a gift from my brother.”

He only realized what he’d said when she looked up at him in surprise.

“Wait… you have a brother?”

He froze, his eyes wide.

“I… uhm…”

“Why did you never tell me about him?” she asked, giving him a curious look. “In all this time, you never even mentioned him.”

“Well… I…”

He had to stop her from realizing the thing he didn’t want her to realize, but when he saw a frown appear between her brows, he knew it was already too late.

“Actually…” she said, “I should have known about this. Why isn’t he mentioned in your file?”

“Well, he’s… he’s my half-brother,” he said evasively.

“That doesn’t matter,” Raquel said, her frown deepening. “All family should be listed in your file, and I distinctly remember reading ‘no siblings’.”

“It… it must be a mistake in the file.”

“No,” she shook her head, “these are your official government records, they wouldn’t contain a mistake like that.”

He suddenly felt rather hot as he cast around for an excuse, but he couldn’t think of anything. He saw suspicion appear in her eyes as she looked at him.

“What’s going on?”

He felt so torn. He knew he shouldn’t tell her, he knew it could only be bad for him, but – god help him – part of him actually _wanted_ her to know. Before he could make a decision, however, the guilty look on his face had made her reach the inevitable conclusion. She sat up straighter.

“It’s not real, is it? Your file?”

This could get him into so much trouble, but as he looked into her eyes, he found that he couldn’t lie to her anymore. He shook his head.

A look of consternation appeared on her face.

“Is… is Salva even your real name?”

“No,” he said quietly.

She stared at him in dismay for several seconds, then she abruptly got up.

“I need some air.”

He watched her walk away from the fire, out the French doors and into the night, and he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He knew he should feel angry at himself for misspeaking, for accidentally revealing something he’d successfully managed to keep from the police for months – but that wasn’t what he was feeling at all. It had been weighing on him so much to keep this secret from her, and he suspected that maybe his slip of the tongue hadn’t been completely accidental. He’d _wanted_ to tell her. All he felt now was guilt for keeping it from her for so long, and worry about what would happen now. It didn’t seem like she’d taken the information too well, and he felt a sudden fear that he’d ruined things, that their friendship – so precious to him – might suffer because of this.

He needed to apologize, to explain, and he waited for her to come back, but she didn’t appear. He didn’t want to force his company on her when she needed space to process things, but she had gone out without a coat and it was freezing outside. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore – he got up, put on his own coat, and took hers outside.

She was standing on the terrace, hugging herself against the cold, looking out over the snow-covered garden which was lit by a near-full moon peeping through the clouds. He tentatively held out her coat to her, and she took it and put it on without looking at him. For several long moments, he just stood there silently, waiting for her to speak.

“I trusted you,” she finally said, so quietly that he could barely hear her.

“Raquel,” he said appealingly. “This doesn’t really change anything. I’m still the same person. You can still trust me.”

She swallowed hard.

“How? When I have no records of any criminal activity you might have been involved in? Who knows what… what horrible thing you’ve done that you needed to create a fake identity?”

“No!” he said quickly. “No, it’s nothing like that, I swear. I haven’t done anything horrible, I just… didn’t want to be in the police system.”

“Why?”

“Because… because I was planning something big, and I preferred not to be known by the police.”

“So you were _going_ to do something horrible.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I have a… a strict code of ethics. I would never do something that would hurt people.”

“How do I know that’s true?”

“You know me, Raquel,” he said softly. “You know I would never hurt anyone.”

“I _thought_ I knew you,” she said bitterly. “I knew Salvador Martín. I… I don’t have any idea who _you_ are or… or what else you’ve lied about.”

“I don’t think I’ve lied about anything else to you,” he said earnestly. “Really. It’s just a name, Raquel.”

“It’s not just a name, though!” she said. “Who knows how many other aliases you’ve had, or how many crimes you’ve committed that aren’t in your file.”

She still wasn’t looking at him. He hadn’t realized how big of an issue this would be for her – he knew he was still the same person even if he had a different name – but she clearly felt that she didn’t know anything about him for sure anymore, and she didn’t know if she could believe him. He desperately cast around for a way to make things right between them – he couldn’t… he _couldn’t_ let this destroy what they had built. It was too valuable. He took a deep breath.

“My name is Sergio Marquina,” he said. “My birthday is February 23rd, 1975. Before I stopped updating it, my ID number was 192-7365-87. I can write it down for you if you want. You can look me up.”

She had turned and was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Why… why would you tell me that?”

He wasn’t entirely sure. He just knew that he had to repair the damage between them.

“Because I want you to know that you can trust me,” he said finally. “Because we’re friends.

“You know what I have to do with this information, right?”

He nodded.

“I know you have to tell Inspector González.”

She nodded, her arms crossed, her mouth a tight line. He didn’t care. All he cared about was making things right.

“I can tell you more,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, I…”

“No,” she said, “no, I don’t want to hear any more. I need to be alone right now.”

To his dismay, she turned and walked past him to go inside. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, to ask her to keep talking to him, to sit her down and tell her everything, everything, until things were alright again. But if she said she needed to be alone, he felt instinctively that he should respect that, that he shouldn’t try to force things, that he couldn’t just make things go back to the way they had been. They couldn’t go back – they could only move through this – so he let her walk past, and he gave her some time to take off her coat and shoes and go upstairs before he followed her inside.

Once he’d taken off his own coat, he sat down in front of the fire and stared into the glowing embers, feeling more terrible than he had felt in many weeks. Would their relationship be irreparably damaged now? Would they ever be able to recover from this? He really wasn’t sure. In spite of the fact that he was a criminal and she was a police officer, she had trusted him, and now that trust was broken and he didn’t know if he would be able to repair it. He knew he should care more about her telling Inspector González about his fake identity, because it could have serious consequences for him, but all he cared about right now was how this would impact their friendship.

The thought occurred to him that they might not be friends at all anymore after this, and it suddenly became harder to breathe. He remembered the first weeks they had spent in their previous safe house – those first miserable, _miserable_ weeks – and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear to return to that. How would he get through the days if he didn’t get to talk to her anymore? Suddenly, it happened again – for the first time in weeks, he heard the gunshot echo through his mind again, he saw the body hitting the ground, he felt again the despair of that moment. When he was with her, the memories didn’t go away, but they were so much less vivid, less painful, less intrusive. After what had happened, she had been his only source of comfort, his anchor, the light guiding him out of the darkness of his guilt and pain. At the thought of having to live without her, he could feel the darkness loom at the edges of his consciousness, ready to swallow him again.

He sharply shook himself and told himself that he shouldn’t expect the worst yet. They would never go back to completely avoiding each other, would they? After all, she’d been miserable too back then. But he still wondered if their relationship would ever be the same after this. Would there still be laughter, and mulled wine, and cooking together? Would she still reach out without thinking to put her hand on his arm? Would they still have the fireside conversations he loved so much? She’d said she shouldn’t have gotten emotionally attached to him, so was she going to… _detach_ , now? The thought made him desperately sad.

He stayed up late that night, just staring into the fire, wondering if there was anything he could possibly do to make things right again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to notprincehamlet, Bucanek and Loreak for reading the chapter and giving me feedback! 💗
> 
> And a big thank you to thegirloverseas, for being the best beta reader and for everything else 💗
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! 😊😘

Raquel didn’t sleep well that night. She kept tossing and turning for a long time before she was able to fall asleep, and she woke up again in the early hours of the morning, while it was still dark outside. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, so she just turned on the light on her bedside table, and lay staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, trying to figure out how she was feeling about things now. There were a lot of conflicting emotions – anger, confusion, uncertainty – but most of all, she felt _stupid._ She shouldn’t have trusted him. She had become too comfortable around him – she should never have allowed him to come this close, she shouldn’t have allowed herself to start caring for him so much. She should have _known_ things were too good to be true, she should have _known_ something bad would happen. How stupid she was. Would she never learn?

And yet, as she thought more about it, doubt started creeping in. Was she right to react so strongly? Was this really a breach of her trust, or was it like he’d said – was it just a name? A voice sounded in her mind, clear as day, the voice of her ex-husband: _Why do you always have to be so dramatic? Why do you always have to overreact to everything?_ Usually she tried not to listen to that voice, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it might be right. Was she really just being dramatic? Was she really overreacting? It felt like he’d lied to her, it felt like she didn’t know him anymore, but perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she felt it to be. Was it? She pressed her hands to her face – she wasn’t sure – she couldn’t tell – she didn’t dare trust herself. She’d been wrong about Alberto for so many years, what if she was wrong again?

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the big question that now posed itself: what was she going to do? She knew what she _should_ do – it was perfectly clear. Once it was light outside, she should call Elena and tell her that their witness had given them a fake name, that apparently he’d built an entire fake identity for himself that was so thorough it had managed to fool the police system. She _knew_ it was the right thing to do – so why didn’t it feel like it? He had committed obstruction of justice by withholding information, and he should be punished for it, but the penalties for something like that varied wildly. He could just be fined, but he could also go to prison, and the thought of that made her stomach turn. She thought back to their first night in this house, how he had insisted she take his coat, how he had listened to her when she talked about Alberto, how he had made her feel safe and heard. She thought about celebrating Christmas with him, about playing in the snow, about him offering her the snowball he refused to throw at her. Did a person like that really deserve to go to jail? Could she turn him in just like that, when he had been nothing but kind to her, when he’d been her main source of comfort and support in these difficult months? It felt like a betrayal, and she wasn’t sure if she could do it.

She wasn’t any closer to making a decision when the sun came up and breakfast time arrived. She reluctantly got out of bed and got dressed, then she hesitated in front of her bedroom door for a while. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t look forward to seeing him – in fact, she dreaded it. As long as she wasn’t sure about how she was feeling about this situation, and as long as she hadn’t made a decision about whether or not to tell Elena, she didn’t know how to behave towards him. Should she try to avoid him today? Should they try to talk about it? She wasn’t sure. One thing was certain though: they couldn’t just go back to how things had been between them, and she felt a hollow sense of loss at the thought. Their friendship was so precious to her – it was the one thing that had helped her through the unfairness of this assignment, it had made her feel warm and connected, it had even rekindled a joy in her that she’d thought she might have lost forever. For a little while, she’d started believing that life could be good again. The thought of losing all of that now made her want to cry.

For a moment, she considered not going down to breakfast at all, to just stay in her room, but she was hungry and she’d have to face him at some point. So she took a deep breath and opened the door, then walked down the stairs.

He was already in the kitchen when she got there. The sight of him elicited a strong mix of emotions in her chest, so confusing and convoluted that she couldn’t identify any of them. He turned when he heard her.

“Good morning,” he said, still with that guilty look he’d had last night.

“Good morning,” she replied, only just stopping herself from calling him by his fake name. _Sergio_ , she reminded herself. _His name is Sergio._ It felt so strange – she didn’t think she could call him that. Once again, she was overcome by the fear that maybe she didn’t know him at all. They just stood looking at each other, the flagstone expanse of the kitchen a gaping distance between them.

“How… how did you sleep?” he finally asked her.

“Not great.”

The look of guilt on his face intensified.

“Raquel”, he said quietly. “I want to apologize again. I never meant to break your trust like that. When I used that fake name when I got arrested, I never… I could never have known that… that we would become… what we’ve become. If I had known, I never would have lied to you.”

He looked so earnest that she couldn’t help but believe him – and god help her, she _wanted_ to believe him so badly. She wanted to accept his apology and try to see if she could learn to trust him again, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

He looked down at the floor, seeming as lost as she felt.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore. I can… I can stay in my room.”

She didn’t want him to feel like he had to stay locked in his room just because she couldn’t make a decision.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

The hopeful look he gave her tugged at something inside of her, and she had to stop herself from going to him – but she couldn’t do that. Not before she’d decided whether or not she was going to tell Elena. His thoughts seemed to be going along the same lines.

“What… what did the Inspector say?” he asked her carefully.

She looked down.

“I haven’t called her yet.”

“Oh. Uhm… why not?”

She felt so terribly conflicted.

“I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do,” she whispered.

“I would understand it if you did,” he said in a low voice. “You would just be doing your job.”

She shook her head.

“I haven’t made a decision yet,” she said. “I need to think about it.”

He nodded soberly.

“Of course. But apart from whether or not you tell her, I… I hope we can still be friends, you and I. Do you… do you want to talk about it? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

She shook her head again.

“I don’t think that would help right now. I just… I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore, and I don’t think there’s anything you could say at this point that would change that, but… but maybe later.”

“Alright,” he said, looking very dejected. “Can we… can we still work on the case together?”

She wanted to say yes, but she really couldn’t under the circumstances.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know anymore what crimes you’ve committed, or who you may have been involved with. I… I don’t think it’s a good idea to give you access to classified police information right now.”

He looked down.

“Of course. What… what about meals?”

There was a heavy weight on her chest. She couldn’t imagine spending her days without him, but she also didn’t know how to interact with him while she was still trying to decide if she was going to send him to jail or not. She needed space to think about the situation, as objectively as possible, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if she kept spending time with him.

“I… I think it might be best if we ate separately,” she said, even though it hurt her to say it. “Just for a while. Until I figure things out.”

He gave her such a sad look, and again, she had to stop herself from going to him, from telling him that it was alright, that they could go back to the way things were, but she couldn’t.

“Do you want to return to the schedule we used at the beginning?” he said quietly.

The very thought of that schedule, of not seeing him at all anymore, was awful. She didn’t think she could bear it.

“No,” she said decidedly. “No more schedules. We can still see each other. I just need some space.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Take your time. You… you know where to find me if… if you do want some company.”

He walked out of the kitchen, his head down, and she almost stopped him when he walked past her, but she told herself she had to be strong.

She spent a miserable day alone. She tried working on the case as usual, but she missed him by her side, and it was hard to focus. Mealtimes were incredibly lonely. It hadn’t snowed for two days, and halfway through the afternoon, she heard a noise outside and looked out the window to see a snow plow coming up the driveway, clearing it of snow. She had known it would happen sooner or later, but she still felt sad at the thought that their little bubble of comfort and safety was gone now, that the outside world could come back in. It seemed like a fitting thing to happen on this day.

That night, she lay awake for hours again, going back and forth between her options, struggling between her sense of duty and her affection for him, which hadn’t just disappeared. She’d _known_ she shouldn’t have gotten attached to him, she’d _known_ it was a bad idea, but it was too late now, and she had to deal with the consequences. By morning, she still hadn’t reached a decision, so the next day started much the same as the day before – a lonely breakfast, then struggling to focus on the case files on her laptop. After lunch, she was just cleaning up when he came into the kitchen to get his own lunch. There was an awkward moment as they looked at each other, then they murmured greetings and she went back to the dishes while he walked over to the refrigerator, a heavy silence between them. Then the silence was unexpectedly broken by the sound of a car coming up the drive outside.

“That will be Tomás with new groceries,” Raquel said, drying her hands.

They heard two car doors close, and she frowned.

“Did he bring someone?”

They went out into the living room together, curious, when suddenly there was a crash at the front door, and they froze.

“What the…” Raquel started, and then two armed men burst through the door into the living room.

She didn’t hesitate for a second. She tackled Sergio so they both fell to the ground behind the armchairs in front of the fire, then she scrambled up, pulled her gun, and fired at the men from behind the back of one of the chairs. There was a loud cry, and she ducked back down and turned to Sergio, who was looking at her with wide eyes from behind the other chair.

“I think I hit one,” she panted, her heart racing. “Let’s see if the other one’s distracted so we can make a run for the panic room.”

The moment she peeked from behind the armchair, however, bullets came flying and she immediately had to pull back.

“They’ve retreated back into the entrance hall,” she said, “but one of them is still shooting.”

“What do we do?” Sergio asked, barely suppressed panic in his voice.

Raquel glanced around – on their right, there was a door in the wall behind them, leading to the hallway and the panic room. On their left, the door to the kitchen, which in turn also led to the hallway and the panic room. Both doors, however, were several yards away, and they’d get shot long before they got there. There was only one option. She steeled herself and turned to him.

“Run,” she said. “Run for the door, and I’ll cover you.”

“What?” he said, horrified. “No, you can’t stay here, you only have a few bullets left!”

“It’s our only option,” she snapped at him. “If we both run, he’ll shoot both of us. I need to cover for you.”

She peeked around the armchair again and saw the man tentatively coming out of the entrance hall, so she shot at him to make him retreat, then crouched back down to see Sergio shaking his head at her.

“No,” he insisted, “no, I’m not leaving you here to die while I save myself.”

She felt a stab of frustration.

“Look, it’s not like I _want_ to die, but only one of us can get out of here alive!”

“Then it should be you! Let _me_ cover for _you_.”

“That’s not how this works!” she said angrily. “I have to keep you safe, that’s the whole reason I’m here!”

But there was a stubborn expression on his face.

“You’re not dying for me, Raquel.”

The man was coming out of the entrance hall again and once again she had to shoot at him to keep him back.

“Run!” she shouted at Sergio as she fired. “Now!”

She pulled the trigger several times, and the man had to duck back into the entrance hall to avoid the bullets, but then there was a hollow click from her gun and she knew she was out. She crouched back behind the armchair – and _goddammit,_ Sergio was still there.

“Why didn’t you run?” she yelled, furious at him.

“Because you’re not dying for me,” he repeated stubbornly.

“But now we’re both going to die!”

She could see a steely determination in his eyes.

“No,” he said. “I’m going to make a run for the kitchen.”

She shook her head.

“He’ll shoot you before you can get there.”

“I know,” he said quietly, “but that gives you a chance to run for the hallway.”

She stared at him.

“No… you can’t…”

“There’s no time to argue,” he said, getting up into a crouch. “Go!”

Before she could say anything else, he jumped up from the behind his armchair and ran, and she scrambled up to run in the opposite direction, furious that he had forced her hand this way, but also feeling her heart break for him. She expected to hear the gunshots that would end his life, but instead there was a shout and the sound of running footsteps – she didn’t have time to look back, she just sprinted at full speed to the door into the hallway, then she opened the door to the panic room and got inside. Before she closed it, however, she hesitated, looking down the hallway towards the kitchen – and suddenly Sergio came running out of the kitchen, the man right behind him.

“Get in!” Raquel shouted at him, and the next moment he flashed past her into the panic room and she slammed the door as hard as she could. Outside, there was a loud thump as Sergio’s pursuer collided with the door, but there was no way for him to get in. They were safe.

Raquel immediately turned to Sergio, her heart still hammering in her chest.

“Are you alright?” she said urgently. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m… I’m fine,” he panted, his hands on his knees.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He was unhurt, he was _alive –_ she couldn’t believe it. The relief she felt was so strong that she didn’t know what to do with it, so she punched him on the shoulder.

“Hey!” he said. “What’s that for?”

“I gave you an order and you completely ignored it!”

“I’m not one of your officers,” he said indignantly. “I don’t have to follow your orders. And anyway, things turned out fine.”

“By pure dumb luck! It’s a miracle that he didn’t hit you!”

He shook his head, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“It’s weirder than that, Raquel. He didn’t even shoot.”

That made her forget her anger. She stared at him.

“What? How is that possible?”

“Maybe he was out of bullets too?”

“No,” Raquel said, “he had a second gun, I saw it.”

They looked at each other, utterly confused, but then Raquel shook herself and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“It doesn’t matter right now. I have to call the police.”

He nodded and leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath and running shaking hands over his face. She was shaken up too, but there was still so much adrenaline coursing through her body that the impact hadn’t fully hit her yet. She dialed the number of the local police, and someone picked up after the first ring.

“Aratores police station.”

“This is Inspector Raquel Murillo at the safe house on Calle de los Robles,” Raquel said. “There are two armed men in the house. I need backup immediately.”

…

It was late in the evening by the time Raquel stepped out of the heat and the noise of the living room and into the blessed quiet of the hallway. All afternoon and evening, she had been busy, talking to the police officers who arrived first on the scene, then the police chief of the station, then Elena. Together, they had decided that she and Sergio should stay in the house tonight, while Elena looked for a solution to their situation. Raquel had coordinated things with the police chief, making sure that there was a permanent police presence in and around the house until they would leave it. The chief had taken her request very seriously – she felt like every policeman for miles around was in her house right now: several officers in every room downstairs, and what looked like half a battalion in cars outside. Then there had been official statements to make and a ton of paperwork to fill out, and it had taken quite some time to calm down Tomás, who was very upset. All in all, Raquel hadn’t had a second to herself to think and process what had happened, so when she could finally leave the crowded living room, she didn’t immediately go upstairs, but sank down on the dark stairs and took a deep breath.

She had recounted the events of earlier that day several times – the men bursting through the door, the shooting, their lucky escape – but now was the first time that she could think about what had happened beyond the mere facts, and she was suddenly hit with the deep, breathtaking realization that she had almost died today. She’d been in several dangerous situations over twenty years of being a cop, but nothing quite like this, and only now did she really feel how shaken up she was. Those men had come in with the intention to kill her. She had come so, so close to dying. She _would_ have died. The only reason she hadn’t, was… She glanced over her shoulder, up the dark stairs. Sergio had quietly retreated to his room hours ago – they hadn’t had a chance to speak properly yet, and suddenly she desperately wanted to see him.

She got up and went up the stairs to knock at his bedroom door, then opened it at his quiet ‘come in’. He was sitting on his bed, a book open on his lap.

“Hey,” she said. “Can we talk? In here? The rest of the house is full of cops.”

“Of course,” he said, gesturing to the foot end of the bed.

She sat down, and they just looked at each other for a long moment. As she took in the familiar lines of his face, she was suddenly struck by the thought that he’d almost died today as well, that she’d almost lost him. She couldn’t look at that thought too closely – she didn’t even want to imagine that. Without thinking about it, she shifted closer to him.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she said softly. “So glad.”

He leaned forward but he didn’t move closer to her, as always allowing for her to decide the distance between them.

“I’m glad you’re safe too,” he said, equally softly.

“What a day, huh?” she said, then she shook her head. “I still can’t believe that guy didn’t shoot you. I just can’t understand why he didn’t.”

He nodded, a frown between his brows.

“I know. I’ve been thinking about it all evening, and it doesn’t make sense at all. Why would Ortega’s men shoot at you but not at me?”

She thought about it for a moment.

“I think there’s only one option,” she said.

“Which is?”

She gave him a thoughtful look.

“Ortega wants you alive for some reason.”

He frowned.

“Why would he want me alive?”

“I don’t know,” Raquel said. “You tell me. Do you have anything he wants? Information, maybe?”

He looked honestly bewildered.

“I… I don’t think so? I certainly can’t think of anything.”

“Well, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

They were quiet for a moment, thinking, then he spoke again.

“How did they even find us? Was the police database hacked into again?”

Raquel shook her head.

“Elena said there were no signs of that, though she didn’t rule out that they got in and out undetected. But I think there’s a simpler explanation. I suspect that someone from the local police station here talked to the wrong person.”

“But nobody there knew our names.”

“They didn’t have to. They knew you were a protected witness with an ankle monitor, and they knew we were from Madrid. If Ortega heard about that, it would have been all he needed to send someone up here to check things out.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded. “So… what are we going to do now? I suppose we can’t stay here?”

“No,” she said, “we can’t. Elena is looking into it. She’s going to call me again tomorrow and we’ll discuss what to do next.”

He nodded.

“Alright.”

There was a longer silence now, in which they just looked at each other, and she suddenly felt the return of the awkwardness of the past few days, as she was reminded that the trouble between them hadn’t been solved yet. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Raquel,” he said quietly, “can we please talk about… about our issue? I can’t stand… this distance between us.”

She nodded.

“Yes, let’s talk about it.”

“Thank you,” he said, clearly relieved. “Can you… can you tell me what bothers you the most about it?”

She sighed and considered the question.

“I’m just afraid that… that you’re not the person I thought you were. That the past months were all a lie. That you’ve done some awful thing you had to hide.”

He gave her a nod, more serious than she’d ever seen him before.

“I understand. I can only assure you again that I didn’t change my identity to… to cover up some horrible crime. I just didn’t want to be in the system, that’s all. I haven’t done anything bad, I swear. And I’ve always been myself with you. You _know_ me, Raquel. You know who I am. I’m still that person.”

She looked into his eyes, and she realized that yes, she did know him. All those months of kindness, of companionship, of caring for one another, that had been real. After today, how could she doubt that anymore? After today… _You’re not dying for me, Raquel._ Her throat suddenly felt tight.

“You saved my life today,” she whispered.

He seemed embarrassed.

“I… no… I didn’t really.”

“You did,” she insisted. “If you’d gone for the panic room when I told you to, you would have been safe and I would have gotten shot. But you stayed. Why?”

He took a deep breath, then he said the same thing he’d said to her earlier.

“Because you shouldn’t die for me.”

“I’m here to protect you.”

He gave her an earnest look.

“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place, Raquel. You’re only here because you were punished for doing something brave. I… I wasn’t going to let you pay for it with your life as well.”

She shook her head.

“You can’t have thought all of that while that guy was shooting at us.”

He sighed.

“Maybe not.”

“Then why didn’t you run when I told you to run?”

He gave her a long look.

“Because I couldn’t let you die,” he finally said. “I just couldn’t.”

He looked down at his hands.

“You’re… you’re too important to me.”

She kept looking at him, and she felt such a warm feeling kindle in her chest. He cared for her. He really did. She hadn’t been sure if she could trust him again, but he’d been willing to sacrifice himself for her in a heartbeat. Today, he had proved that she could trust him absolutely – she could trust him with her life.

“Sergio,” she said, and he looked up at her, his eyes lighting up at the sound of his real name.

“Yes?”

“I… I would like to start over,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to turn a fresh page, for you and me. Let’s forget this happened, all the stuff with your fake name.”

He looked like he didn’t quite dare to believe her.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Suddenly she realized she’d decided something else as well. “And I’m not going to tell Elena about your fake identity.”

He gave her an uncertain look.

“Are you sure? I’d understand it if you did.”

“I’m sure,” she said, feeling so relieved at finally having made a decision. “The information isn’t relevant to the case. She won’t find Ortega any faster if she knows your real name. But… but more importantly: I don’t _want_ to tell her. I don’t want you to go to jail. I know that’s not the right thing to do from the perspective of my job, but you’re…” She paused and took a deep breath. “You’re too important to me too.”

She realized how true it was as she said it. She was feeling so many things as she shifted even closer to him on the bed, then tentatively reached out a hand and placed it lightly on his.

“Thank you,” she said, looking into his eyes. “For saving me.”

Slowly, carefully, he turned his hand underneath hers, then gently closed his fingers around it so he was holding it. Something fluttered in her stomach, something nervous and fragile and hopeful, and she didn’t pull back.

“You’ve saved me too,” he said, quietly but so, so earnestly. “More than you know.”

She felt how the balance between them restored itself, and she realized with a rush of relief that her internal struggle of the past few days was gone now, that she no longer felt conflicted about him. In fact, after today, she felt more connected to him than ever, and as they kept sitting there, her hand warm in his, she wished the moment would never end.

“Are we alright again?” he finally asked her.

“Yes,” she whispered, and she meant it. “Yes, we’re alright again.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured.

He gently squeezed her hand, and she looked into his eyes, and suddenly she realized just how much he had come to mean to her. In this new life she was living, he was the one holding her steady. He was her best friend, her comfort and her joy, and she felt closer to him than she had felt to anyone in years. The realization caused a sudden surge of feeling in her chest so strong that it took her breath away. It was overwhelming and confusing, and it flustered her so much that she quickly pulled back her hand. Faced with two armed men earlier, she had been completely steady, but this… this terrified her. She couldn’t look at the feeling too closely – she _refused_ to acknowledge what it might mean – she simply couldn’t handle it right now, so she firmly pushed it down and got up from the bed.

“Are you okay?” he said, getting up too with a look of concern.

“Yes,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Yes, I’m just tired.”

“Did I… did I make you uncomfortable?”

She couldn’t let him think he’d done anything wrong when the problem was all hers. She looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile.

“No,” she said, “no, not at all. I just need to sleep.”

“Are we still okay?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “We are. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he said, his voice warm. “I hope you sleep well. Goodnight, Raquel.”

“Goodnight,” she said. “Sergio.”

…

When the door closed behind her, Sergio kept looking at it for several long moments. He was so relieved that they were friends again, and just now he’d wanted to go to her so badly, to pull her close and hug her, but she’d seemed overwhelmed just by him holding her hand, so anything more than that was definitely out of the question. Finally, he let himself fall back onto the bed, and rubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. What a day. He was going to need some time to process all of it. When those men had come through the door earlier, Raquel had reacted before he’d even realized what was happening. Then everything had gone so fast – the shouts, the bullets flying, and then… _Why didn’t you run when I told you to run?_ Yes, he thought. Why? Why had he stayed? What he’d told her earlier was true – she was too important to him – but it was only half of the truth. After tonight, after what he had felt when he held her hand, when she looked at him like that, he knew _why_ she was so important to him. It baffled him – he’d never, _ever_ expected this to happen to him now, when it had never happened to him before – but he saw no other option. He was in love with her.

The moment the thought occurred to him, he saw no sense in trying to deny it – he knew down to his _bones_ that it was true. And it wasn’t just an infatuation either, he felt that equally clearly. It was a deep and earnest feeling, steady and true and profound, and though he had no experience in the matter, he recognized it for what it was. After all, today had shown him that he was prepared to do anything for her – even die. How could that be anything but love?

The realization shook him to his core. In the few short relationships he’d had, he’d certainly never felt anything like this, and by now he’d assumed that he would never feel it – he was _forty,_ for crying out loud. Who fell in love for the first time at forty? Yet when he thought about Raquel, about her eyes and her smile and her hand in his, it suddenly didn’t seem so strange anymore. She was the most remarkable person he’d ever met – kind and warm, and strong and soft at the same time, and he had connected to her in a way that he’d never connected to anyone before. Though they were such different people, she seemed to _understand_ him in a way that few people ever had, and to his surprise, she seemed to actually like him for who he was. All of his life, he’d felt that he wasn’t like other people, that he wasn’t _normal,_ that there was something wrong with him. He didn’t feel like that with her. She’d seen his flaws and she accepted them.

He took some time to carefully explore the feeling, trying to figure out what it meant for him, how it changed things. What did he want, now that he had this different perspective? He considered the question for a moment, but the answer wasn’t very hard. He wanted to spend time with her – as much time as possible – every minute of every day, if she let him. He wanted to see her smile, and be the reason why she smiled. And what he wanted most of all, what he wished for at the very bottom of his heart, was to wrap her in his arms and hold her, just hold her. Oh, if he could only hold her close… the mere thought of it made the feeling in his chest swell until he could hardly contain it anymore. For a moment, he gave free rein to the feeling and let it wash over him completely, and he marveled at it. What a beautiful thing this was. What a weird and warm and wonderful sensation. He’d never felt it before, not quite like this, and now it filled him with wonder – the buzzing energy of it – the way it lifted him up – the way just thinking about her made him so deeply, dizzyingly happy.

But then reality asserted itself, and the happiness left him. Because what in the world was he going to do with this newly-discovered love of his? He realized with a sudden sinking feeling that he couldn’t let her know about it – she didn’t want it. Of course she didn’t want it. She was still so bruised from her marriage, and her divorce wasn’t even final yet. He remembered her saying, only a few weeks ago: _It feels like I’ll never be ready for a new relationship again._ The sinking feeling increased as he realized just how impossible it was for anything to ever happen between them. Even apart from the fact that she was still in the middle of a divorce and not ready for something new, there was also the fact that she was a police officer, while he lived completely outside of the law. Here in this house, none of that mattered, but sooner or later they’d get out of here, and then how could things ever work between them? His plans had been seriously disrupted by this whole situation, but he still hoped to be able to execute them sooner or later.

The only possible conclusion he could come to was that anything beyond their current friendship was simply out of the question. In addition, he realized that he would have to be careful from now on, that he’d have to watch himself around her, because he couldn’t let her suspect even for a moment how he felt about her. If she knew, it would make her terribly uncomfortable, and that was the last thing he wanted. They had only just repaired their friendship, and he was terrified of damaging it again. No, there was no doubt about it. He couldn’t let her know.

The thought made him immeasurably sad. She was so wonderful, and he wished he could tell her that. He wished he could tell her how much she meant to him, how much she brightened his days, how much better his life was with her in it. He just wanted to make her life better in return – to make her happy, to love her, to care for her. He’d never been a particularly caring person, but now all he wanted to do was to protect her, to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe from the world which had hurt her so badly. Instead, he’d have to keep his distance. He thought about her ex-husband, and about Angel, and he realized that he couldn’t become yet another man in her life that she had to worry about – one more man who asked too much of her. He couldn’t do that to her. She needed him to be a friend and nothing more, so that was what he’d be. He could still love her that way –quietly. He reminded himself that he’d almost lost her as a friend too, and that he should be grateful that at least they still had that, that at least he got to see her every day, and talk to her, and be her friend. It was enough. He told himself that it was enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely, enthusiastic reactions I got on the last chapter, both here and on Twitter! It makes me incredibly happy to know that you are enjoying the story 🥰
> 
> As always, I want to thank Bucanek, notprincehamlet and Loreak for reading the chapter in advance and giving me their feedback! 💗
> 
> And also as always, I need to thank thegirloverseas for pouring absolutely massive amounts of time, dedication, love, support and enthusiasm into this story (and its author). You're the best 💗💗💗
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! 😘

Raquel was grateful that there were so many practical things to occupy her mind the next morning. As she’d expected, she’d had several nightmares about armed men bursting in on them, and the last dream she’d had before the morning had ended with Sergio getting shot. She woke up in the soft grey light of dawn, her heart racing, and the relief she felt that it was just a dream was overwhelming. As she lay back into the pillows and took deep breaths to calm down, the thought once again occurred to her, unbidden, that he had come to mean so much to her. Then suddenly, there it was again: the same feeling she’d had last night, the feeling she didn’t want to admit to. She quickly pushed it down, swung her legs out of bed and went to take a shower. In order to distract herself, she then went around the house to talk to the officers who had been on duty during the night, none of whom reported anything unusual. Once the sun outside was fully up, she called Elena.

“So,” she said the moment her friend picked up. “What’s our plan of action?”

Elena came straight to the point.

“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” she said, “and I think we’re going to have to make some changes to your situation.”

“I agree,” Raquel said. “We can’t just keep moving from one house to the next. Sooner or later they’re going to get us.”

“Yes,” Elena said. “I think it’s time for some drastic measures. You’re not getting murdered on my watch.”

“What do you propose?”

“Do you have your laptop there?”

“Give me a minute,” Raquel said.

She took her laptop to the dining table, then turned it on.

“Make a VPN connection to the Madrid police servers,” Elena instructed her. “Are you in?”

“Yes.”

“Now go to the list of empty safe houses,” Elena said. “And pick one. Don’t tell me which one.”

Raquel scrolled down the list, reading the specifications of the various houses and looking at the pictures. She picked the nicest one she could find that had a panic room, even though it would take them several hours to drive there. She thought it might be a good idea to move to a different part of the country.

“Alright,” she said, “I’ve picked one.”

“Good. Now put the address and the code to the front door in your phone.”

Raquel did as Elena instructed.

“Done. Now what?”

“Delete the house from the system,” Elena said.

“What?” Raquel said.

“Remove the safe house you chose from the database,” Elena said. “That way, it can’t be found if the system is hacked into again. We also won’t register your new address in Mr. Martín’s file.”

Raquel nodded.

“We’re going off the grid.”

“Yes,” Elena said briskly. “I’m not taking any more risks. I’m making sure that there will be no more ways to trace you from now on.”

“What about our handler? The place I’ve chosen is far out of Ramírez’s range.”

“You won’t have a handler anymore,” Elena said. “I don’t think it’s likely, but there’s always the possibility that Ramírez has been compromised and that’s how you were found. And I’m not willing to trust any other handler either. From now on, nobody except you and the witness will know your location. I’ll check in with you myself every day by calling your cell phone.”

“What about groceries?”

“You’ll have to get them yourself. You will be much safer now, it should be alright for you to leave the house. If you really want to be careful, you can always put the witness in the panic room while you’re out.”

“What about the local cops? I have a suspicion that that’s how Ortega found us here. One of the officers told me the entire station has been talking about us being here.”

“I’ve thought of that too,” Elena said. “I think it’s best if you simply don’t notify the local police that you’re there.”

“Then who will install and keep track of Salva’s ankle monitor?”

“You,” Elena said simply. “I’ve arranged for you to get a different model, Ramírez is on his way with it right now. He’ll explain how it works when he gets there.”

“Alright,” Raquel nodded. “Then I think we’ve covered all of our bases.”

“Yes,” Elena said. “The only link to Mr. Martín from now on will be you, and your name has never been in his file. It should be completely impossible for Ortega to find you now.”

Raquel agreed – Elena had been thorough. If they proceeded like she suggested, they were going to be as safe as they could possibly be.

“Thank you, Elena,” Raquel said.

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure you’re not followed when you leave your current location – the local chief said they haven’t been able to find the men who broke into your house, so they might still be around.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Elena said. “Call me when you get to your new house.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up, then Raquel went towards the kitchen to get something to eat. At the door, she almost bumped into Sergio, who was coming out with a sandwich on a plate.

“Oh,” he said. “Good morning. You seemed busy, so I made you something to eat.”

He offered her the sandwich, and she couldn’t help but smile as she thought how things had changed – it used to be _she_ who made sure _he_ ate. She took the plate from him, thinking how glad she was that they had been able to repair their friendship. Then, as she looked up at him to thank him, she suddenly had the vivid memory of sitting with him on the bed last night, her hand in his, and to her dismay the unwanted feeling in her chest surged again. It unbalanced her completely – she couldn’t deal with it – she couldn’t – she _couldn’t_ – she pushed it down.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the sandwich, trying to keep her expression and voice neutral. “That’s… that’s really nice of you.”

“Have you spoken to the Inspector?”

“Yes. You should go pack your things, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“I thought so,” he nodded. “I’ll go get them.”

She was careful not to look after him as he walked away, keeping a tight rein on her thoughts and emotions. As long as she didn’t acknowledge the feeling, as long as she didn’t allow it to take root, she was sure it wouldn’t fully manifest and she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

She kept her thoughts firmly on the day ahead as she ate her sandwich, then she went upstairs to pack her own bag. By the time she came back down, Ramírez had arrived.

“So,” he said. “You’re moving again.”

“Yes,” Raquel said. “For the last time, I hope.”

“The Inspector told me you’re taking extra precautions this time,” he said. “I think you should be safe.”

“Let’s hope so. Did you bring the new ankle monitor?”

“I did,” he nodded, holding up a small box. “It’s a completely different model from the one he’s wearing now.”

“Different how?”

“It’s got a better GPS range,” Ramírez said, “so it’s not limited to a few miles the way his previous monitors worked – it will work all over Spain. And it doesn’t rely on a transmitter box by the door either. You can monitor it from this device, which you can clip to your phone.”

He handed her a small, thin rectangle with a screen that clipped easily onto her phone, then he showed her how to use it.

“You need a code to turn it on and off,” he said. “So he can’t steal it and just turn it off. Once you get to your new location, you can set a perimeter around the house, and an alarm will go off on your phone if he crosses it.”

“So we don’t need to get the local police involved at all?”

“No,” Ramírez said. “You can do everything yourself. It also means that you won’t have to handcuff him later when you’re moving to your new house. Just make sure he knows there’s no sense in him running away, since we’ll be able to track him anywhere.”

That was all she needed to know, so she said goodbye to Ramírez for the last time, and after he left, she called the local station to get Sergio’s current monitor turned off. When he came down a few minutes later, she explained the new system to him and kneeled down to switch the two monitors. As she took off the one he was wearing now, she suddenly wished she didn’t have to use the new one. He’d saved her life yesterday – it felt wrong now to keep him captive like this, and she felt a stab of unease as she clicked the new monitor into place.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she straightened up.

He shrugged, a resigned expression on his face.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault.”

They were ready to go now, but neither of them moved as they looked around the living room. All the cops who were guarding them had gone outside in anticipation of their departure, so they had the house to themselves one last time.

“I’m sorry we have to leave here,” Sergio said quietly. “It was a nice place.”

She nodded, feeling strangely sad herself. She looked at the space in front of the fireplace, where they had slept on their first night here, and where he’d listened to her talk about her ex-husband. They’d grown so much closer now than they had been when they had arrived here. They had cooked and laughed and had snowball fights, and spent hours in front of the fire – they had celebrated Christmas and New Year’s together. She’d been happy here.

“Yes,” she said. “It really was a nice place.”

They looked at each other and smiled, and she found herself thinking that it didn’t really matter where they lived, as long as… She abruptly cut off the thought before it could go any further, and looked away from him.

“We should get going.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I suppose we should.”

They went outside, and Raquel said goodbye to the local police while Sergio got into the car. She shook the hand of the chief, then Tomás came up to her, looking embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for?” Raquel asked, surprised.

“It… it might be my fault you were found,” he said, looking down at the ground. “You see I… I told my girlfriend about you.”

She was going to miss him. She gave him a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m sure everyone from the station told _someone_ , at least. Chances are slim that it’s your fault.”

He gave her a grateful look.

“Thank you for saying that.”

She nodded, but then she assumed a stern expression.

“But next time you have a witness here, I hope you’ll all behave more professionally.”

He stood up straighter, a painfully earnest expression on his face.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good,” she said, then she held out her hand. “Goodbye, Tomás.”

He shook her hand.

“Goodbye, Inspector. You being here was the coolest thing that’s happened to me as an officer.”

Raquel gave him one last smile, then she got into the car.

“Alright,” she said to Sergio. “Here we go again, I guess.”

He nodded.

“Here we go again. I suppose the next house will be like the first one again, completely devoid of any kind of charm.”

But she’d picked the house herself this time, so she smiled.

“Oh,” she said, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

He gave her a curious look.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll leave that as a surprise for later.”

He looked even more curious now.

“Where are we even going? Back to Zaragoza?”

“No,” she said. “We’re driving _past_ Zaragoza, but we’re not going back there. Alright, I’ll need to focus on the road, so could you keep an eye out to make sure nobody’s following us?”

“Yes,” he said, “I will.”

She turned on the engine and turned the car around, careful on the slippery driveway. As they slowly drove away, all the police officers waved after them – and then they were on the road again. It had been cleared of snow, but it was still slick in places, so Raquel had to keep all of her attention on the road and its many twists and turns. She was rather glad about that – it meant that she didn’t have time to think of other, unsettling things. Beside her, Sergio was silent, letting her focus.

After a while, the slopes became less steep and the snow by the side of the road disappeared as they left the mountains behind. The temperature rose several degrees, and the road became easier to navigate, allowing them to talk again.

“How did you sleep?” she asked him. “You know, after yesterday.”

He grimaced.

“Some pretty bad nightmares,” he said.

“I thought so,” she nodded. “That’s normal after an event like that. Your subconscious will need some time to process it. Let’s talk it through, that should help.”

They talked about yesterday’s events for a while, comparing notes on how they’d experienced things differently, then they speculated again about why the man hadn’t tried to shoot at Sergio. They still couldn’t figure it out, so after about an hour, they gave up and moved on to lighter topics of conversation. Sergio kept trying to get Raquel to tell him more about their next house, but she merely smiled mysteriously and refused to tell him anything. Once they passed Zaragoza, she took the highway going south-east, which made him deduce that they were headed in the direction of Valencia. They talked companionably as the miles flew past, and Raquel found herself thinking that it almost felt like they were a regular couple going on holiday. Then she quickly backtracked on her own thoughts – no, like _friends._ Just friends. Of course.

When lunchtime approached, she was beginning to feel tired and hungry.

“Let’s stop at the next gas station and get something to eat,” she suggested.

He gave her a look.

“We could do that,” he said, “but with this new ankle monitor, I could actually leave the car.”

“What do you suggest?”

“What if we took a proper break? You’ve been driving for hours, you need to rest, Raquel. Why don’t we get off at the next town and see what we can find there?”

She smiled – the thought of going into a town again for the first time in months, to walk around and eat at a proper restaurant, was very tempting.

“Alright,” she said. “The next town is only a few miles away. Let’s go check it out.”

They left the highway and drove into a charming little town neither of them had ever even heard of. The town center was a pedestrians-only zone, so they parked the car and got out to walk. Raquel was really enjoying this opportunity to be out and about for a change, and she saw that Sergio was, too – he kept throwing her looks and smiling as they strolled past colorful storefronts along winding cobblestone streets. It was so nice to be among people again, Raquel thought, to walk here like a normal couple – no, she quickly corrected herself again, _friends._ Like normal _friends._ What the hell was wrong with her? When he smiled at her again, she felt the feeling she was suppressing stir in her chest, and she knew if she allowed herself to look at it for even a second, she’d know exactly what was wrong with her, but she couldn’t – she _couldn’t_ deal with it. Maybe if she ignored it for long enough, it would just go away.

“That looks like a nice place,” he said, nodding at a little café on the opposite side of the street.

“Alright,” she said. “It looks like they serve lunch. Let’s go in.”

The café was small but cozy, with lovely wooden chairs and tables, colorful hangings on the walls, and lots of little plants everywhere. They settled themselves at a table by the window and ordered sandwiches. The conversation flowed easily as they ate, and Raquel was once again glad that they had been able to return to normal. She didn’t even want to imagine how awkward this trip would have been if she had turned him in to Elena, how much she would have missed being friends with him. After they were done eating, they decided to treat themselves to hot chocolate, which arrived with a mountain of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. When she took a sip, her nose dipped into the whipped cream, and they both laughed as she wiped it away. Laughing with him was so nice, so familiar, that she felt the feeling stir again, so she quickly looked out the window instead. It was getting steamed up and everything outside was blurry. Without thinking about it, she drew a tiny heart in the condensation, but then she caught herself and hastily wiped it away again.

“You know,” he said, and she looked up to see him gaze out the window too. “I’m going to miss our house.”

_Our_ house. She smiled at his choice of words, and she had to agree – it really had felt like their house.

“Yes,” she said. “Me too. Isn’t it strange? I didn’t feel sad at all about leaving the first house, but I do now.”

“Well,” he said, “this house was a lot nicer than the first one.”

“True,” she nodded, “and I’m sure that had something to do with it. But I think there’s more to it than that.”

“You’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “Somehow, it almost felt like… like home.”

She smiled.

“Exactly. Funny, isn’t it? We were only there for about a month.”

She considered the matter for a moment, slowly stirring her hot chocolate, watching the whipped cream dissolve in the liquid.

“What do you think makes one place feel more like home than another?” she finally asked him.

He sipped his own drink as he considered the question.

“I think for me… home is the place where I feel most comfortable. Where I feel at peace and where I can be myself.”

She gave him a warm look, pleased that he had felt that way about a space he had shared with her.

“What about you?” he asked her. “What makes something ‘home’ for you?”

She thought about it.

“Home for me is a safe place,” she said. “That was one of the hardest things when… when my ex-husband started… treating me the way he did.”

He nodded, his expression serious.

“It’s not a nice feeling when you have to dread going home,” she continued quietly. “When you feel unsafe in the place where you should feel safest.”

She appreciated the way he listened to her when she confided in him about things like this – with quiet attention, never making her feel like she was making him uncomfortable or like he didn’t want to hear about it.

“I think maybe that’s why this last house felt like home,” she said. “I felt so safe when we were snowed in.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I can imagine.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and she felt, like she did so often, that he really understood her.

“Does it usually take a long time for you to feel at home somewhere?” she asked him, though she suspected she knew the answer.

“Usually, yes,” he said. “I don’t do that well with change. That’s why it surprised me to feel it here after only a few weeks. What about you?”

“When I moved to a different house after I left Alberto,” she said. “It took me a while to settle in. I think it only really started to feel like home when my mother moved in so I could take care of her. So I think that, for me, home is also with the people I love.”

She had spoken without thinking, but she suddenly realized what that implied about _him._ From the look of him, he hadn’t made the same connection, so she hastened to change the topic. She put down her empty cup and pushed back her chair.

“I think we should get going again. I’ll go get the check.”

As they walked back to the car, she reasoned with herself that it didn’t mean anything. She knew she cared about him – that had been made very clear to her as she agonized about whether or not to tell Elena about his fake identity – but you could care about people as friends. The feeling in her chest stirred again, and this time she firmly put a label on it: affection. That’s exactly what it was. Affection for a friend. She felt quite relieved to have reached that conclusion as they reached the car, got in, and drove off again.

…

Sergio was struggling. It had all been well and good for him to decide last night that he wasn’t going to let her know how he was feeling about her, but he hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be. He soon found that he now had to monitor every aspect of his behavior – what he said to her, how close he got to her, how often he looked at her, even _how_ he looked at her – and it made him feel extremely self-conscious. Yet even _that_ feeling he had to hide, or she might ask him what was wrong and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to lie to her. In the car, he had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road in front of them, or he would have spent the entire drive looking at her. Walking through the streets of the town with her, he constantly had to restrain the urge to take her hand. And when the hot chocolate they’d been drinking had left a dot of whipped cream on the end of her nose, it had been one of the most adorable things he’d ever seen, and he was glad that he’d been able to laugh with her to mask the other things he was feeling.

He hated that he couldn’t talk to her about this. It was such an amazing feeling, and he was experiencing it for the first time, and it hurt that he couldn’t tell her, that he couldn’t share this with her when they had shared so much. He hated having to keep a secret from her again, just when he had thought that there would be no more secrets between them. He knew it was for the best, but still… he just wanted to sit down with her by the fireplace and tell her about this feeling she had sparked inside him, tell her how wonderful she was, how happy she made him. He wanted to confide in her the way she had so often confided in him. More than anything, he just wanted to be close to her.

Over and over, he kept telling himself that he should be grateful that at least they were in a situation where they could be together constantly, and he _was_ grateful. He loved every moment with her, every conversation they had, every smile. He was acutely aware that their time together was limited – only ten more weeks, and then the six months of her assignment would be up and she’d be allowed to go home. He didn’t want to think about that yet, about living without her, about her being replaced by some stranger. For a moment, the mad thought entered his head that maybe they could stay friends after the case was over and Ortega was caught, but he was planning to execute a massive heist at some point, so having a police officer as a best friend was definitely not a smart idea. So he tried not to think about the future, and focused all of his efforts on enjoying the time he still had with her.

After several hours of driving, they got to Valencia, then they kept going south for a bit longer. When the car GPS indicated that they were almost at their destination, they stopped to get groceries, then they drove the last stretch, leaving the village behind to drive in the direction of the coast. The sun was just setting when they finally arrived at their new house, and Sergio’s eyebrows went up. It was a tiny cottage, all weathered wood and flaking white paint, and it looked charming enough in its own right – but it was set almost at the edge of a cliff, giving the occupants a magnificent vista over the sapphire sea.

He gave a low whistle.

“This is quite a place.”

She turned to him with a smile.

“I thought you’d like it. It’s not very big, but when I saw the picture, I just couldn’t resist.”

“Good choice,” he nodded appreciatively.

They got out of the car, and he noticed immediately that it was much warmer here than up in the mountains – they would only need a light jacket. The wind that swept past him brought the smell of the sea, and down at the bottom of the cliff, he could hear the swishing sound of the waves. Apart from that, the silence was absolute – there were only a few other cottages down the road, and the village was several miles away. Though the sun was setting behind them, the sky over the sea was tinted with orange and pink, and Sergio couldn’t help but think what a lovely place this was.

“Shall we go in?” Raquel suggested, and he could see from the way her eyes were shining that she loved the spot as much as he did.

They took their bags out of the trunk of the car, then opened the door to the house. Inside, there was more wood, and everything smelled of salt and sea. On the whole, the house was as charming as it had seemed from the outside, but absolutely tiny, with only one floor – the front door opened right into a living room which also contained the kitchen, and the two bedrooms barely fit a bed and a dresser. The bathroom was equally cramped, and the panic room was small as always, looking like it had been a tiny storage space before. But the furniture was colorful and comfortable-looking, and there was one delightful surprise at the back of the house: a bright solarium with glass walls and ceiling, and a stunning view out over the ocean.

“I think I know where we’ll be spending most of our time,” Raquel smiled.

“Yes,” Sergio agreed. “In fact, you can sit down right now and enjoy the view while I make dinner.”

“Oh,” she said, “no, I can help.”

He shook his head.

“You’ve been driving all day, you must be tired. I’ll do the cooking.”

That smile – he would do anything for that smile.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said, settling down in one of the cozy-looking chairs.

They had dinner at the round table in the living room, and he was very pleased when she kept saying how good the pasta was. When the food was gone, she leaned back and looked around the room with an amused expression.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t have this house as our first safe house,” she said. “In a tiny space like this, it would have been impossible to avoid each other.”

“Well then,” he said, “I think we _should_ have had this as our first house. If it was impossible to avoid each other, we might have become friends weeks earlier.”

He now found that he was quite regretting those first lost weeks. What he wouldn’t give to be able to do them over, and have more time with her.

“Alright,” she smiled. “I guess I agree with you.”

They did the dishes together in the tiny kitchen, working companionably side by side. He kept glancing at her as she washed and he dried, and he remembered what she had said earlier: _Home is with the people I love._ He reflected that he had to agree with her, and he had no doubt at all that this new house would start to feel like home very soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Loreak, notprincehamlet and Bucanek for their feedback! 💗
> 
> I'm running out of ways to thank thegirloverseas 😅 I just know that I wouldn't love writing half as much if I didn't have her to talk to, to discuss things with, to give me feedback, and to support me. She makes my writing better in so many ways, and my life as well 💗
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! 😊😘

They had breakfast in the solarium the next day, gazing out at the pale blue sky with its wisps of clouds, stretching out endlessly over the richer, darker blue of the sea. Raquel had not slept very well, even despite the soothing, repetitive sound of the waves at the bottom of the cliff. She had woken up early with a restless feeling that didn’t allow her to stay in bed, so she got up and took a long shower, then she made them both breakfast by the time Sergio got up. During the meal, she felt distracted and anxious, though she couldn’t pinpoint why, and when he asked her what was wrong, she couldn’t tell him.

After breakfast, they worked on the case as usual, but after lunch, she suggested that they could go for a walk along the beach, thinking that she might be able to walk off some of that restless energy, and he eagerly agreed. She took her phone out of her pocket and activated the little device that managed his ankle monitor. When they had arrived at the house yesterday, she had set a perimeter for the monitor that only included the house, but now she widened it to several miles so they could walk as far as they wanted to. She frowned as she put her phone back into her pocket. She had to admit that it was an improvement over the old system, but it didn’t feel right that she was the one who got to decide his freedom of movement now – that she had that kind of control over him when they were… friends. There was nothing she could do about that, however. She still had to do her job, and he didn’t seem to mind.

When they stepped outside, her mood shifted as she took a deep breath – she loved the sea air. It was so nice that they could actually go outside with this new ankle monitor, and not just to walk repetitive circles around the garden, but to explore the beach, which she was fond of under any circumstances. She felt a distinct, uplifting sense of freedom that distracted her from her troubles for a moment. They walked along the edge of the cliff, looking for a way down, until they found a sturdy set of wooden stairs set into the rock, steeply leading down to the sand below. They descended, then started walking along the beach. There was a stiff breeze, and she spread out her arms and closed her eyes as she leaned into the wind.

“This is _so_ nice,” she said, and next to her Sergio nodded.

“It is. Even though I don’t usually like the beach.”

“Why don’t you like the beach?” she said, surprised.

He shrugged.

“The heat, the crowds, the sand getting everywhere. But when it’s like this, when it’s not too hot and there’s nobody else around, I do like it. I like the sound of the waves. And it’s very nice to be able to take a walk like this.”

They didn’t meet a single soul as they silently walked along side by side, the cool wind whipping around them, carrying the sound of the seagulls careening through the air high above. They reached some rocks at the edge of the water, and she started climbing them without a word, while he stayed down on the sand and watched her. When she reached the highest rock, she turned to face the sea and just stood there for a while, her hair caught by the wind, looking out over the waves and breathing deeply of the salty air, trying to balance herself somehow.

The restlessness and the anxiety were still with her, and she had a suspicion that they had something to do with that feeling in her chest which she still refused to examine properly. As she looked towards the horizon, she felt rather like the sea itself: calm and serene on the surface, but with invisible currents and whirlpools in its depths which could cause so much damage, and which she wasn’t brave enough to explore. Some things were better left alone, or they would pull you under and carry you away, helplessly. She was so sick of feeling helpless. She accepted that she couldn’t control her surroundings or other people, but she should at least be in control of herself, and this sense she had that she was on the verge of losing that last shred of control was terrifying.

After a while, she turned her back on the sea and looked down at Sergio, waiting for her on the sand. He was looking up at her, and when he smiled at her, she felt a flutter in her stomach and her anxiety surged again. He was so important to her – the one thing that kept her steady in this new life she was leading, the one thing she could rely on. She couldn’t face the possibility that he might also be the source of her discomfort. Why did everything have to be so horribly complicated? She started climbing down again, but she was still so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t pay proper attention to where she was putting her feet. She kept glancing at Sergio, and when she stepped from the last rock down onto the sand, she slipped and gasped in pain as she sharply twisted her ankle.

Immediately, Sergio was by her side.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure,” she said through gritted teeth as she lowered herself down onto the rock. “I twisted my ankle.”

“Let me take a look,” he said, kneeling down in the sand before her.

She pulled up her pants leg, and he frowned.

“That looks sprained,” he said. “Look, it’s starting to swell.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, trying to get up, but the moment she put her weight on her right foot, a stab of pain shot through the ankle. She drew in a sharp breath and quickly sat back down, and he gave her a concerned look.

“I don’t think it’s fine at all,” he said. “In fact, I don’t think you should walk on it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said reluctantly.

“You should ice it immediately when we get home.”

“That’s probably wise,” she sighed. “Let’s go back.”

She got up, a little wobbly on one leg. She would have to hop, but the sand was very unstable and she knew she would fall. Sergio seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he offered her his arm.

“Here,” he said. “Lean on me.”

She gave him a grateful look and placed one hand on his sleeve, very conscious of the fact that she was touching him. With his arm for support, she was able to hop without falling, but it was very slow going, and soon she was completely out of breath and her other leg was starting to hurt like hell.

“Can we… take a break?” she panted.

“Of course,” he said.

She let herself fall down onto the sand with a sigh and rubbed her leg. He was observing her carefully.

“Are you in pain?”

“A little,” she said, then she looked in the direction of the house, which was still a considerable distance away, and her heart sank. “But it’s going to take us forever to get back.”

He gave her a tentative look.

“Raquel, I have a proposal, but you can say no.”

“What is it?” she asked carefully, though really there was only one possibility.

“I think it might be better if I… if I carried you home,” he confirmed her suspicion. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself even more. What do you think?”

The mere thought of him carrying her made her heart beat faster. She couldn’t deny that part of her liked the idea, but it would involve a lot of touching, and a loss of control that scared her.

He seemed to understand how she was feeling.

“I could put you down at any time,” he assured her quickly. “You’d just have to say the word. It would be entirely up to you.”

She swallowed hard.

“Alright...”

He seemed to notice that she wasn’t convinced, and again he seemed to understand why.

“I know it would be a lot of touching,” he said quietly. “I know that must be scary for you.”

She looked down and gave a slight nod. She’d been touching him just now, and she’d touched him before, but those had been little touches, and all of them had been her own choice, while now it felt like she didn’t have an option. The feeling was deeply unpleasant, and it reminded her of situations with her ex-husband that she would prefer not to think about.

He carefully held out his hand to her, palm up.

“Do you want to try it first and see how it feels?”

She was so grateful that he understood how she was feeling, and that he was taking her seriously. She had held his hand once before, but he seemed to realize that this was a very different situation and that it wasn’t a given that she’d be comfortable with it now. He waited patiently as she mentally prepared herself for the skin to skin contact, then she reached out and put her hand in his. Instantly, she felt better. There was just something about him that reassured her, that steadied her. He always did that for her.

“Is that okay?” he asked her quietly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, giving her a soft smile that tugged at something inside her chest.

She looked into his eyes, so calm and steady. She trusted him – she trusted him so deeply. If she was going to feel comfortable with touching anyone, with surrendering control to anyone, it would be him. She took a deep breath.

“Maybe we can try it,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be very careful,” he said earnestly. “Remember: I can put you down at any time. Just say the word. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded, feeling rather breathless as he helped her stand up.

“I’m going to put one arm underneath your shoulders, and the other under your knees and lift you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He came very close to her, and her heart started beating madly. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was nervous, or because of… some other reason.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

She nodded, her heart beating in her throat, and then – gently, so gently, he gathered her in his arms and lifted her off the sand with ease. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he straightened up.

“Is this alright?” he asked her seriously. “I can put you down again if it’s not.”

She hadn’t been sure how she would react – she was afraid that it might be too much, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t at all. Being this close to him felt so natural, and she didn’t feel helpless at all – on the contrary, she felt safe and protected, in a way that she hadn’t experienced in years. It was the most wonderful feeling.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She wasn’t sure of anything anymore, except for the fact that she didn’t want him to put her down again.

“Yes.”

He smiled at her, a warm smile. He was so close.

“Good,” he said, and he started walking.

She leaned against his chest and held on to him a little tighter. He was so warm, and he smelled so nice, and as he carried her over the sand, she had to resist the impulse to put her head on his shoulder and just breathe him in. Every few minutes, he looked down at her with concerned eyes.

“Are you still alright?”

“Yes,” she replied each time. “Yes, I am.”

Now that she was so close to him, the feeling she’d been repressing for the past few days was fluttering in her chest like a caged bird, demanding to be freed. She knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore it much longer – but maybe a few more minutes. For a few more minutes, she just wanted to enjoy being this close to him without any complications. She wished they would never arrive at the house.

Much too soon for her liking, they got to the stairs, and she felt so sad as he put her down to catch his breath.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, giving her a close look.

“I’m okay,” she said.

It was a lie. She was teetering somewhere on the edge between feeling wonderful and utterly confused, and she certainly wasn’t feeling ‘okay’ in any sense of the word.

“Thank you for carrying me,” she said softly.

“Anytime,” he replied equally softly.

He was still very close to her as they looked at each other, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. The feeling in her chest surged and she didn’t have the strength to restrain it anymore. She let it go, and it swept away all of her denial so she had to see it clearly, and as she looked into his eyes, she had to face the fact – the terrible, unimaginable fact – that she was in love with him.

…

She fell back on her bed, an ice pack on her ankle, and stared up at the ceiling. She had told him that she was feeling tired and that she needed to rest for a bit, and he’d seemed to understand that she needed time to process things. She was grateful for his understanding, though she hoped fervently that he didn’t realize _what_ she was processing. That would be so humiliating. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her face, struggling to make sense of things.

How? How was this possible? How was she _in love_ with him when she had left her husband mere months ago, when she was still in the middle of a divorce? She felt that she had done a lot of healing over the past few weeks – being snowed in, combined with her deepening friendship with Sergio, had been good for her, and the nightmares were all but gone – but she still felt like there was so much more to deal with. Her marriage had left her with so many emotional scars that had only just begun to fade, and that might never disappear completely, leaving her broken and imperfect and unequipped to handle a new, healthy relationship. She had thought that it would take her so much time, that it would take her _years_ before she would be able to fall in love again. But he had managed to deconstruct all of her defenses, so gently that she hadn’t even realized what was happening.

It was absolutely terrifying. The thought of opening herself up again, of allowing someone in, made her feel close to panicking. Love had only brought her pain before. Being in love meant that she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, it meant that she depended on someone else for her happiness, and most importantly: that she ran the risk of getting hurt again. She couldn’t face that. She couldn’t go through another heartbreak, not yet, not when she hadn’t even fully recovered from the last one. She felt a sudden surge of resentment towards this unwanted feeling – she hadn’t done _anything_ to invite it in. Again, she wondered how this was possible, how _the hell_ this feeling had managed to take root in the cracks of her still-healing heart, when she hadn’t thought anything could grow there yet – and then it had the audacity to bloom like that.

Because she felt very clearly that this wasn’t a fledgling feeling – it wasn’t small and easy to dismiss – it was full and strong and insistent, and she didn’t know how she’d managed to overlook it for so long. She just hadn’t been expecting it at all. Once again, this confirmed something she’d already noticed several times over the course of her life: that the stories people tell themselves are incredibly powerful in shaping the way they perceive reality. After all, for years she’d been telling herself a story about her ex-husband that had completely obscured to her what was really happening. She now realized that, for the past weeks or even months, she’d been telling herself two stories simultaneously: that of a woman whose heart was safe because it was broken, and that of a friendship that could never turn into something more – and those stories had kept her from seeing the truth.

Oh, this was all too much – she felt so overwhelmed. She desperately wanted to talk to someone, but the person she would usually talk to was the one person she couldn’t tell – the thought of confessing any of this to Sergio was simply unthinkable, for so many reasons. So she sat up, careful to keep the ice pack around her ankle, then she picked up her phone and called her mother.

The moment she heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line, she had to hold back tears.

“Raquel? Hello sweetheart.”

“Hi mamá,” she said, forcing her voice to sound normal. “How are you today?”

“I’m good. It’s a good day,” her mother said, and Raquel could hear that it was true: her voice was clear and sure. “How are you?”

“I’m… I’m…” Raquel tried, but she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Silently, she started to cry.

“Oh sweetheart,” her mother said, her voice full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything… everything is such a mess,” she sobbed.

“Did something happen?” her mother asked urgently. “Are you safe?”

“Yes,” Raquel said. “Yes, we’re perfectly safe, nothing happened.”

“Then what’s wrong? I thought things were going so well with you and your witness?”

“They were,” Raquel whispered. “But now…”

“Did you have a fight?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Her mother fell silent, waiting for Raquel to find the words to express what she wanted to say.

“Mamá,” she finally whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Mamá, I think I’m in love with him.”

“Ah,” her mother said, her voice calm. “Yes, I see. I didn’t think you’d realize it quite this soon.”

Raquel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Wait… you _knew?_ ”

“You think I don’t know my own daughter?”

“But how could you tell?”

“From the way you spoke about him. You seemed to be getting so fond of him, so yes, I suspected something. I understand that you’re a little shaken, darling, but don’t you think this is actually a good thing?”

“A _good thing?”_ Raquel said in disbelief. “How in the world is this a good thing?”

“It’s always a good thing to find love,” her mother said gently.

“But my divorce isn’t even final yet!”

“I admit that the timing isn’t ideal, but your divorce won’t drag on much longer now.”

“Mamá, I’m not _supposed_ to fall in love with him! I’m here to protect him, this is my _job.”_

She could hear the smile in her mother’s voice.

“Sometimes we find love in unexpected places.”

“But… but we can’t be together. We _can’t.”_

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a cop and he’s a criminal. How would that work?”

“Raquel,” her mother asked carefully, “did he do something very bad?”

“No,” she said. “No, the thing he got convicted for wasn’t that bad at all.”

“Is he a good man?”

_You’re not dying for me, Raquel._

“Yes,” she said softly. “He is.”

“And is he kind to you?”

So many different moments came to mind immediately – a hundred different kindnesses, big and small. Giving her his coat when she was cold. Catching her when she slipped. Playing her Silent Night on Christmas. Listening to her in that quiet way he had, and always, always making sure she was okay.

“Yes,” she whispered. “He’s so kind to me.”

“Then isn’t that the most important thing?” her mother said.

Raquel wasn’t sure what to say, and her mother seemed to take her silence for agreement.

“Then the biggest question is…” she continued, “does he feel the same way about you?”

That made her stop and think. She hadn’t even dared to consider that possibility.

“I… I don’t know,” she finally said. “I don’t think so.”

“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’ve gotten quite close.”

“We have, but just as friends. I… I know he cares about me, but…”

“From the sound of it, I think he cares about you a lot,” her mother said softly.

Tears were starting to slide down her face again.

“Mamá,” she said. “I can’t… I can’t do this. This can only end badly. He’s only here because he’s a prisoner. Sooner or later, the case will end and he’ll leave.”

“Maybe he won’t,” her mother said gently. “Maybe you can talk to him and work something out.”

More tears, dripping down into her lap.

“I’m not ready,” she whispered. “I can’t… talk to him. I’m so scared.”

“Oh sweetheart,” her mother said, her voice full of empathy. “I understand. You’re afraid of getting hurt again.”

“Yes,” she said. “I… I can’t deal with that again.”

“Well, there’s no need to rush things. Why don’t you take your time and see how you feel about things when you’ve had time to think it over?”

But talking to her mother had crystalized things for Raquel: it had shown her that there were really no options here.

“I don’t need to think it over,” she said, taking a deep breath and wiping away her tears. “This can’t happen. It just can’t.”

“Alright,” her mother said calmly. “Alright. Of course you know best.”

“Thank you,” Raquel said. “I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“Alright,” her mother repeated. “Goodnight, then, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Raquel whispered.

She hung up and put her phone on her bedside table. She should have known that her mother would react like that – she’d always been too optimistic when it came to love, and she refused to see when things were impossible. Still, as she wiped away the last of the tears, Raquel was glad she’d been able to talk to someone – she just desperately wished that she could have also hugged her mother.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on her door, and she looked up, startled. Oh no, she couldn’t imagine seeing him now – she considered for a moment to pretend that she was asleep, but the house was small and the walls were thin – he’d probably heard her talk to her mother. She’d have to see him. She couldn’t tell him to come in, however – having him in her bedroom was out of the question, it would be much too intimate. So she got out of bed and hopped over to the door, careful not to put any weight on her injured ankle.

“Hey,” he said softly as she opened the door. “I just… wanted to see if you were okay.”

The sight of him standing there, his eyes full of concern, made the feeling in her chest stir almost painfully, and for one mad moment, she considered just going to him – to lean into him, and rest her head against his chest, and let him hold her. She had felt so safe when he was carrying her earlier, so protected, and she just wanted that again, she wanted to forget all of her worries and concerns, and just be close to him – but she knew it was impossible. She took a deep breath.

“Yes,” she said, “I’m okay.”

But he was looking closely at her face, and she suddenly realized that he could probably tell that she’d been crying. She quickly looked down.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said quietly. “Was it too much for you?”

She understood that he was referring to carrying her home, and he looked so worried that she hastened to reassure him.

“No,” she said. “No, don’t worry.”

“I just… didn’t see any other option to get you home,” he said, a little helplessly.

“There wasn’t,” she said. “It was the only thing to do.”

“I’m so sorry if I… if I made you uncomfortable in any way.”

“You didn’t,” she said softly. “Really. I just need some time to… to process things.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he didn’t ask any further, for which she was grateful.

“Of course,” he said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured him again.

He looked so uncertain that she wanted to reach out and touch him, to show him that she meant it, but she knew that wasn’t a good idea. He gave her a sober nod.

“Thank you for saying that. I’ll give you some space.”

He took a step back, but then he looked up at her again with such an earnest expression.

“Raquel… you know I’m always here if you want to talk, right? About anything. Or… or if you need… anything else.”

Oh, why did he have to be so nice to her? The feeling in her chest was more insistent than ever, urging her to go to him, to talk to him, but the thought of opening herself up like that, of letting him in even more, was so scary that she couldn’t even consider it.

“Thank you,” she merely said. “I appreciate that. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered, then he turned and left.

She closed the door and sank down on the bed to rub her hands over her face. She just hoped that he didn’t think that her crying had been his fault. She hadn’t wanted to lie to him to give him some other reason for her tears, but telling him the truth was even more inconceivable. She thought she would die of embarrassment if he found out how she felt about him. How he would pity her. Alternatively, if her mother was right and he cared about her too, then telling him would make him _expect_ things from her, and that was terrifying. If she opened her heart to him, he might break it, and she didn’t think she would be able to bear that – not with him, when she cared about him so deeply. And since she could see no future for them outside of this house, heartbreak was all but inevitable. She simply couldn’t let that happen.

She wasn’t sure where to go from here. She knew what she _should_ do, of course: she should call Elena and tell her that she was emotionally compromised, and request a transfer. Yet somehow, she just couldn’t bear that thought… Leaving him behind… never seeing him again… She didn’t want that. She told herself firmly that it was merely a question of pulling herself together. She would just have to keep her distance from him over the next few weeks, and then she was _sure_ these feelings would fade again. In the meantime, she was still a professional. She could still do her job. It didn’t need to be a problem. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized that there was no way that they would be able to go on as before. She’d have to keep him at arm’s length now, at least for a while.

She swallowed hard and told herself that it was for the best. Sooner or later, they would go their separate ways, and she’d have to live without him, so she had to protect herself now. She couldn’t get even more attached to him. She needed to create some distance, as much as possible, to weaken the emotional bond between them and get rid of these feelings. The thought of distancing herself from him made her terribly sad, but she told herself that it was the right thing to do. She could only hope that, that way, it wouldn’t break her heart when they had to say goodbye.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Loreak, Bucanek and notprincehamlet for providing feedback on the chapter! 😘
> 
> And, as always, a huge thank you to thegirloverseas for being the best beta reader in every way, for always supporting me, and for not allowing me to give up on this story when I got/get discouraged :') You're the best 💗
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy the chapter! 😊

Sergio was up half the night worrying. Raquel hadn’t come out of her room even for dinner, and he hadn’t wanted to bother her again when she clearly needed space. He remembered her tear-stained face and the way she hadn’t quite met his eyes when he had gone to check on her, and he could only conclude that him carrying her home from the beach had really shaken her. It made him feel terrible. He had thought that she was getting more comfortable with him, and it hurt to know that touching him had made her cry like that, even though he understood. He knew that it had been the best option to get her home, and he knew that he had tried his hardest not to cause her any discomfort, but he still felt guilty. He had loved carrying her, while for her it had clearly been a thoroughly distressing experience, and he could kick himself for not noticing that while it was happening.

Still, as he lay awake in his bed, the memory of holding her in his arms made him ache. For a little while, it had been so wonderful, and he had felt so incredibly lucky. He relived it over and over again: the way she had leaned against his chest – her arms around his neck – the trusting way she had looked up at him – though now he couldn’t help but think that he’d misinterpreted all of it, and he could no longer feel unambiguously happy about it. True, he had wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms, he had dreamed about holding her close, but never, _never_ if it would cause her pain. He had hoped, quietly but fervently, that she might one day feel comfortable enough to hug him, but he now realized that that would never happen. He would always have to keep his distance. The thought made him sad, but he never wanted to make her cry again.

The next morning, he was up quite early, so he made them both breakfast, determined to bring some to her room if she still wanted to stay in there – she had to eat. To his relief, however, her door opened around breakfast time and she came out, looking a little pale but calm. She still wasn’t putting much weight on her right foot, but he didn’t dare offer to support her as she limped over to the table.

“Good morning,” he said carefully.

“Good morning,” she replied, looking down at the table. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

“No problem,” he said. “I was happy to do it.”

As they sat down, he kept trying to catch her eye to gauge how she was feeling, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Are you… are you feeling any better?” he finally asked her.

“Yes,” she said, glancing at him and giving him a slight smile. “I am. Thank you for asking.”

But then she immediately looked away again, and he realized with a sinking feeling that she must still feel uncomfortable. He tried not to take it personally – he supposed that it would fade in time, and he resolved to give her the space she needed to regain her balance.

“How is your ankle?” he asked.

“A little better,” she said, keeping her eyes on the table. “I’ve been thinking if I should call Elena to get someone to replace me, since I got injured…”

His heart stopped. Please no. He couldn’t – he couldn’t face the thought of her leaving.

“… but we’re completely safe here, and I think it will be better in a few days if I’m careful. Even now I could walk on it if I really had to.”

He could breathe again.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”

“Yes, me too. If I’d had to call in backup, we would have had to move again afterwards. Besides, I wouldn’t have been allowed to go home in the meantime, and we really don’t have room for another person in this house.”

“No,” he said. “We don’t. I’m relieved that it’s not necessary.”

“Yes,” she said, “it would have been so weird to have a stranger here with us.”

For a moment, she looked up at him and smiled, and he felt that they understood each other, but then she seemed to catch herself and she looked away again. There was a silence, and the rest of their breakfast conversation was halting and awkward. He could sense that she was trying to act normal towards him, but she clearly wasn’t succeeding. He appreciated that she was trying to spare his feelings, but towards the end of the meal he still felt very dejected.

“I can do the dishes if you want to go back to your room,” he said quietly.

“No,” she said, “let’s just start work as usual.”

He was glad that she still wanted to spend the day with him, at least, but as they worked throughout the morning, the awkward feeling between them didn’t fade. While they were working, she kept her eyes on the screen, and she never once strayed from the topic of the case. At a certain point, she got up and started hopping over to the kitchen sink.

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

“To get a glass of water.”

“Wait,” he said, getting up too. “I can get that for you.”

“No,” she said, “it’s okay.”

Even as she was saying it, she overbalanced and had to put down her right foot not to fall, and she drew in a sharp breath of pain. He went to her, but he was careful not to touch her.

“Raquel,” he said, worried. “Please sit down. I can get you anything you need.”

“I’m fine,” she said gently. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not fine…” he tried, but she interrupted him.

“Sergio,” she said, still in that gentle tone, but a little more firmly now. “I can do it.”

He hesitated, unsure if he should insist. She really looked at him for the first time that day.

“Really,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

There was a slight sadness in her eyes, and he didn’t want to argue any further.

“Alright,” he said, then he turned and sat back down at the table.

When she came back to the table too, he gave her a careful look.

“I’d be happy to help you, you know,” he said.

“I don’t want to bother you,” she said, avoiding his eyes again.

“Raquel,” he said quietly. “It’s okay to accept help sometimes.”

For a moment, he saw her neutral expression waver, but then she shook her head.

“No, I can manage on my own.”

He felt so helpless. He thought he knew what she would say, but he had to ask, he had to try to fix this.

“Have I… have I done something wrong?”

She gave him a reassuring smile, but it felt forced, somehow.

“No,” she said. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Are you done reading this page? Then we can move on to the next file.”

The awkwardness between them persisted all day. Conversation during lunch and dinner was strained and there were long quiet stretches. Immediately after dinner, she excused herself and went to her room, saying that she was tired and that she wanted to go to bed early. He told himself that he had to be patient, that she’d been through a lot and she just needed some time, but when the following day was exactly the same, he started to become truly worried. When she disappeared to her room again right after dinner, he had to conclude that she no longer wanted to be in his company any more than she had to be for work.

He did the dishes by himself, then he sat down in a chair in the solarium and stared into the darkness of a moonless night, wondering if this was really all because he’d carried her home. He thought back to that day – she’d really seemed okay with it while it was happening. Then he remembered when he had put her down at the bottom of the stairs to catch his breath. She had been very close, and he had looked down at her, his heart so full after holding her. When he really thought about it, he realized that, in that moment, he had felt something shift in her. He hadn’t thought much of it back then, but remembering it now, he suddenly felt himself go cold. Something in the way he had looked at her must have revealed the way he felt about her – it was the only explanation. She must have realized that he was in love with her, and _that_ was why things were so awkward now, why she was so distant.

He felt a hot sense of embarrassment as suddenly it all made sense. _Of course_ she felt uncomfortable around him now – she must be afraid that he would try to make a move on her at some point, that he would pressure her the way Angel had done, and she was carefully trying to make it clear to him that she didn’t want that. He was so angry at himself. He should have tried harder to hide his feelings, because how could their relationship survive this? How could she ever trust him again? How could she ever smile at him again, or touch him, without feeling like she was encouraging him? He rubbed his hands over his face. Oh, he was such an _idiot._ The only thing he could do now was to show her that he respected her boundaries, that he didn’t want to pressure her in any way. He would have to keep his distance from her, and hope that, sooner or later, she would feel safe enough to come back to him.

…

Raquel was constantly struggling with herself. It had been easy to make the decision to stay away from him until her feelings faded, but in practice it was so, so hard. She missed him so much. She missed him every moment she wasn’t with him, and even when she _was_ with him, because it simply wasn’t the same anymore. She missed talking to him, she missed the laughter and the warmth and the companionship, and it cost her all of her willpower to go to her room when she wanted nothing more than to stay with him. Over and over, she told herself that this was for the best, that it would be better in the long term, but it was all so painful. It was clear that the distance between them was hard on him too, and whenever she saw how sad he looked, it made her heart break and she just wanted to go to him. But she _had_ to get rid of these feelings somehow, and she could see no other way.

He’d been so kind when he had offered to help her with her injured ankle, and she had wanted to say yes so badly, but the thought of accepting his help made her too uncomfortable. Allowing him to take care of her meant that she would let him in, it meant that she would start to depend on him even more, and she couldn’t let that happen. Soon, either the case would be over or her assignment would end, and then she would never see him again – she needed to be prepared for that moment. So she pushed him away, as gently as she could, and he didn’t offer to help her anymore. After a few days, she noticed how he started to keep his distance from her in return, and she knew she should be glad, but it just hurt. When her ankle was healed, she started taking walks along the edge of the cliff every afternoon. She never went out of sight of the house, but she had to get out of there somehow. There was a streak of bad weather, and she was glad about that, because the grey skies and blustery wind fit her mood exactly, and she spent long hours just sitting near the edge of the cliff and staring out at the white-topped waves of the sea. She never invited him to come with her, and he didn’t ask.

The house felt cramped and restrictive under these circumstances, and she couldn’t quite get used to its tiny spaces and its shabby wood. One day, when it was her turn to clean, she was wiping down the table when a big wooden splinter shot straight through the cloth into her palm. She drew in a sharp breath and pulled it out, but it had gone quite deep and she wasn’t sure if she’d been able to get all of it out. Sure enough, even though she disinfected the wound, after a few days it became red and painful, and she realized there must still be a fragment of wood in there somewhere. She took a pair of tweezers and a needle from the first aid kit in the bathroom and tried to see if she could get it out, but she wasn’t particularly dexterous with her left hand, and she just couldn’t manage it. Finally, she knew there was only one option, and though she was extremely reluctant to do it, she went to ask Sergio for help.

She found him in the solarium, playing a solitary game of chess, and she felt a stab of sadness as she realized how much she missed playing with him.

“Sergio?” she asked, and he looked up in surprise.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath, then held up her hand.

“I have a splinter and I can’t get it out. Could you… could you help me?”

His expression softened.

“Of course,” he said, gesturing to the other chair.

They had to bring their chairs very close together, so their knees were almost touching. When she looked up at him and saw how close he was, there was a frantic flutter in her stomach, and she had to conclude to her dismay that her efforts to get rid of her feelings for him had been spectacularly unsuccessful so far. When he gave her a careful smile, the feeling became so strong that it scared her, and she wished that she could go hide in her room, but the splinter had to come out somehow, so she swallowed hard and held out her hand to him.

He gave her an uncertain look.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to touch you.”

She felt so torn – it had been two weeks since he’d carried her home, two weeks since she’d last touched him, and she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her hand – but she knew it wouldn’t make her feelings for him fade any faster. Still, she could see no way around it.

“That’s okay,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He reached out and carefully cupped her hand in his. When his skin touched hers, she had to close her eyes for a moment – it felt so good, it felt so right, and she had to suppress the urge to turn her hand and hold his, just hold his hand and never let go. Why did touching him make her feel so much better? Why did it instantly wipe away all the distance she’d been trying to create between them, to reaffirm once more the connection they had? She didn’t know – she just knew that, for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t feeling miserable. When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her with a concerned expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said, trying not to let any of her emotions sound through in her voice.

“Please tell me if it gets too much.”

“I will.”

She handed him the needle she’d been unsuccessfully trying to use herself, and he bent over her hand and started picking at the inflamed skin with infinite care. She looked down at his face as he was focused on his task, and the flutter in her stomach returned. She’d been careful not to look at him too much over the past few weeks, and she knew she shouldn’t do it now either, but she just couldn’t stop herself. Even though she’d seen him every day, they hadn’t shared a single moment of closeness in any sense, and she had missed him so much.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmured.

She blinked and decided that she should pull herself together. She noticed for the first time that he was being so careful with the needle that she barely felt anything.

“No, it doesn’t hurt at all,” she said. “In fact, you don’t have to be so careful.”

“I do. The skin is inflamed already, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

A voice suddenly sounded in her ears. _Get up. You’re not really hurt._

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

He looked up at her, frowning.

“Of course it matters.”

She had told herself so often that it wasn’t a big deal.

“Really,” she said. “It doesn’t.”

“Raquel,” he said, gently but steadily. “It matters.”

_Stop crying. Why do you always have to overreact like that?_

She took a deep breath.

“I can handle a little pain.”

“Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should,” he said quietly.

_Don’t be so dramatic, I barely touched you._ For a moment, she was back there, on the floor, cradling her broken wrist, but her hand was warm in Sergio’s, tethering her to reality, and the sound of his voice pushed the memories away.

“Are you okay?”

She took another breath.

“Yes. You can… you can go on.”

He bent back over her hand, and she looked at his face, so focused on not hurting her. She felt the gentle way he cradled her hand, and the care and patience with which he handled the needle, and it made something ache in her chest, sweet and painful at the same time. The feeling was too intense – she tried to push it away.

The next moment, the needle pricked her, and she drew in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” he said quickly.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be more careful.”

“Really,” she said, trying to make light of the matter. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve dealt with worse pain in my life.”

He gave her a soft look.

“And I’m very sorry about that.”

The ache returned, even stronger than before. Why was he always, _always_ so nice to her? She felt something soften in her chest as she looked at him, the ache turning into something sweeter. He treated her with so much care, and he made her feel so safe – he was sweet, and kind, and compassionate, and _oh,_ she loved him so much.

The thought seemed to come out of nowhere, and it took her completely by surprise. She was glad that he was distracted, because for a few moments, all she could do was stare at him. Did she… did she _love_ him? She’d known that she was _in love_ with him, but _love_ was an entirely different category of emotion, something she couldn’t take lightly. Love… that was such a big thing, such a serious thing. If what she was feeling for him wasn’t simply attraction, infatuation, then it would be _so_ much harder to get rid of it. Did she really _love_ him? The next moment, he looked up at her, and she knew with a breathtaking fullness of understanding that yes – yes, she did.

“Are you still okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to look away from him, his face so familiar and full of concern, his eyes so warm.

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long, the splinter is really deep. We can take a little break if you need it.”

She knew she should indeed probably take a break, to try and pull herself together, but she couldn’t bring herself to draw back her hand.

“No,” she said softly. “I don’t want a break.”

He considered her attentively for a few more seconds, then he nodded and went back to his task. Her heart was beating in her throat as she kept looking at him – oh, she was in _so much_ trouble. This was so bad. Love. She loved him. What on earth was she supposed to do about that? That wasn’t a feeling that would just… go away. How was she supposed to fight it? She didn’t think she had the strength.

Suddenly he frowned, his eyes still on her palm, and he switched the needle for the tweezers. Then, he carefully drew out a tiny sliver of wood.

“Here you go,” he said, looking up at her with a smile. “That should be better.”

She still couldn’t look away from him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He looked into her eyes and was caught by her mood, his expression turning more serious. For several long moments, they just looked at each other, neither of them moving, her hand still in his. He was so close. Then something shifted, and she saw a sadness in his eyes.

“Raquel,” he said quietly. “I miss you.”

Oh no – oh _no_ – he was going to do it again, he was going to break through her defenses, and she couldn’t let him. With difficulty, she pulled back her hand and forced herself to look away.

“What do you mean?” she said evasively. “You see me every day.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, still in that quiet tone. “Things haven’t been the same. Though I… I understand why.”

She looked up at him in alarm – did he know how she felt about him? But he was looking down at the ground as if he’d done something wrong.

“I never meant to make you uncomfortable,” he continued in a low voice. “I tried to hide the way I feel, I really did.”

Her heart started beating faster. What? What was he saying?

“I just want you to know…” he said, glancing up at her. “Just because I have… these feelings, doesn’t mean that I… _expect_ anything from you. I never did. I never will. I know… I know nothing can happen, and I’m okay with that. The only thing I want… is for things to go back to the way they were.”

Did he really mean… what she thought he meant? She knew there wasn’t really any other way to interpret his words, but she still couldn’t quite believe it. Was he really…? Then she saw the way he was looking at her, and she felt a little thrill in her stomach. He was in love with her too. She hadn’t considered the possibility – hadn’t _dared_ to consider it – but he was making it very clear now. She knew that really, it didn’t matter how he felt, because nothing could happen between them – or rather, she knew it _shouldn’t_ matter… but it did. She looked at him, and suddenly she felt such a rush of joy. She was in love with him and he was in love with her too. That was such a beautiful thing. It was so wonderful to know that she wasn’t alone in this, that she wasn’t dreaming this connection that they had, that he felt it too.

He was taking her silence the wrong way. He looked down again.

“I understand if we can’t go back to the way we were,” he said softly. “I understand.”

She had never felt so conflicted in her life. She knew she should stay strong, that she should keep to her resolution to stay away from him, but… Love. This was love. It wasn’t an infatuation she could just dismiss, it was a rare and precious feeling and she felt so strongly that she shouldn’t waste it. Avoiding him wouldn’t make this feeling go away, so was there really any sense in trying to keep it up? No, she decided, there wasn’t. She knew nothing could happen between them, but she missed him so much – she just wanted their friendship back, which was exactly what he was asking her.

She reached out and touched his hand, lightly, only for a moment, but it was enough to make him look up with such a hopeful expression.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for… for pulling away from you. I was… scared, but… I miss you too.”

“Please don’t be scared,” he whispered. “I don’t want anything more from you than what we already had, I swear.”

For a moment, she considered confiding in him about her own feelings, but the thought was too frightening – that would make her so terribly vulnerable – she couldn’t summon the courage to open herself up like that. Besides, if he knew she reciprocated his feelings, he might start expecting things after all, or at least he might _hope_ for things to happen. She couldn’t do that to him when she knew she wasn’t ready, and when they had no prospects in the long term because of the real-world circumstances separating them.

“I just want things to go back to normal between us,” he said.

She nodded.

“I want that too.”

His expression of relief was so clear that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “That makes me really happy.”

It made her happy too, happier than she should be – but then she decided that, no, she would allow herself to be happy. She would allow herself to savor this moment of joy without feeling bad about it for once – she had felt bad enough about her own feelings over the past few weeks. She could just as well enjoy the time they still had together, and she refused to feel guilty about it and taint the experience. They had so little time left – there were only two months left before her assignment was done and she would leave, and the case might still end sooner than that. There was no time to lose.

So she let herself be happy as they started talking softly, staying close together. There was a slight awkwardness left after two weeks of avoiding each other, but she felt that the bond between them was undamaged, and she was sure the awkwardness would fade soon. After weeks of loneliness, she was enjoying these first moments of renewed closeness to the fullest. She kept looking at him, and she felt such a curious mix of emotions – gratitude, and a quiet, uplifting sense of joy, and above it all, wonder. Love. She couldn’t quite believe it, that in these exceedingly strange circumstances, she could have found something like this. But she looked into his eyes, and the feeling surged in her chest, undeniable and wonderful and clear, and she knew it for what it was. Love.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I want to thank you all for being so patient with the slow burn, and for understanding that the characters (especially Raquel) need some time before they're ready to commit to each other in a healthy way :) 💗
> 
> A big thank you to notprincehamlet, Bucanek and Loreak for reading the chapter in advance and giving feedback 💗
> 
> And the biggest thank you to thegirloverseas, for being the best beta reader, the most wonderful friend, and just an all-round lovely human being 💗
> 
> And thank you all for reading! 😊 I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!

Over the next week, they slowly returned to normal, and Raquel was so grateful. She had been so miserable over the past two weeks, so lonely, constantly fighting her own feelings and impulses. It was such a relief to just accept the way she felt about him now, and to give in to her desire to be with him as much as possible. She _knew_ that, technically, this wasn’t right – if she had such deep feelings for him, and she knew they weren’t going to go away, then she shouldn’t be doing this job, she shouldn’t be guarding him. Yet no matter how often she told herself that, she just couldn’t bring herself to actually make that call and request that transfer – she didn’t have the strength to say goodbye to him before she absolutely had to. She told herself that there wasn’t a problem because nothing would ever happen between them, and she was a professional. She could still do her job.

Now that things were right again between them, they immediately fell back into their old routine of spending every minute of every day together, from quietly contemplating the sea over breakfast in the solarium, to late-night conversations over cups of tea. For the first time, the house started feeling comfortable to Raquel, its tiny spaces cozy rather than cramped now that they were no longer avoiding each other. In the afternoons, they went out for long walks along the cliff or the beach, strolling for hours side by side past the rolling waves, sometimes talking, sometimes comfortably silent.

For the first few days, now that she knew that he was in love with her, Raquel was just the tiniest bit wary around him – she knew that he was a good guy, but her past experiences with men in his position had left her expecting that things would get a little uncomfortable, at the least. She realized that, subconsciously, she kept waiting for him to stand too close to her, to touch her in small ways, or to allude to his feelings in the hope that she might give some indication that she returned them. Yet he never did any of that – he acted the exact same way around her as before, keeping his distance and his hands to himself, and never once referring to the way he felt, and after a few days she felt like she could relax again. As always, he made her feel so safe.

Still, even though he seemed to be trying hard not to make her uncomfortable, the way he felt about her was apparent in a number of small ways. Now that she was looking for the signs, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen them before – the way his eyes lit up when he first saw her in the morning; the way he smiled at her; the way she sometimes caught him looking at her when he should have been looking at the file on her laptop or at the tv. At first, these things flustered her a little, but he never acted inappropriate in any way, and after a while, she started treasuring these little signs that he liked her too. Even if they could never be together, it was a nice feeling, to have some of her own affection for him returned, though she didn’t know if the feelings ran as deep for him as they did for her.

Because now that she wasn’t trying to suppress her feelings anymore, it was clear that they went very deep indeed. They had lived so closely together for the past months, and of course she’d been aware of their growing friendship, but only now did she realize exactly how close they had gotten. She had been so lost when she first arrived at that first house, so angry, so bruised after her marriage. Time had helped her heal, but what had helped even more was his presence, his companionship, his support. He had been there every step of the way as the anger dissipated, as the nightmares disappeared, as she started finding joy in life again, and so much of it had been thanks to him. When she looked at the woman she was now, she recognized that, in so many ways, he had become a part of her. She couldn’t really imagine living without him anymore.

That thought was scary, because sooner or later, she would _have_ to live without him again. She tried not to think of that yet, tried to focus on the present and the nice moments they were sharing now – and there were so many. She felt so good when she was with him, filled with a quiet, effortless happiness that never ceased to surprise her. Her relationship with her ex-husband had always been turbulent, even in the good years, but this – this felt like coming home. Being with Sergio always felt good. It always felt safe. It always felt right. She knew she couldn’t fully open her heart to him and let him in, for so many reasons, but every once in a while, when he looked at her, her defenses wavered and for just one hot, bright moment she imagined what it would be like to _really_ be with him – to just walk into his arms and feel them warm around her, to reach up and draw his head down and to feel his lips softly against hers. The thought always made her heart beat frantically, and it stirred a longing inside her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

As the days progressed, they grew closer than ever, and she often lay awake in the evenings, thinking about him. She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if they had met each other under different circumstances, in a different life. What if he hadn’t been a criminal, and she hadn’t been a police officer? She never allowed herself to imagine the kind of life they could have had, but she sensed that they could have been so good together, in ways that she couldn’t even fully grasp right now, and she cursed her fate for bringing her to him when they didn’t have a chance. The knowledge that she would have to say goodbye to him soon weighed heavier every day, and she found herself wishing that they would never have to leave this house, because once they did, she knew they would be on opposite sides again, and they wouldn’t be able to maintain any kind of relationship. But for now, for now… she let herself love him.

…

She had come back to him, and he was so relieved he could cry. He had missed her so terribly, and when she had come to him with that splinter, when she had put her hand in his like she trusted him completely, he hadn’t been able to help himself. He was so glad now that he’d said something, so glad that they’d been able to right the imbalance between them. He was exceedingly careful not to say or do anything that might make her uncomfortable, but that was a very small sacrifice to make to spend entire days in her company again. He couldn’t get enough of talking to her, looking at her, laughing with her. Every late-night conversation was a gift; every walk along the beach a delight. He was so grateful for every moment he had with her.

He’d never been in love before, and now that it wasn’t just causing him misery because she was avoiding him, the feeling took him by surprise. In fact, it wasn’t just one feeling – it was a whole host of emotions and sensations and thoughts, none of which he could control, and for all that they were overwhelming, they amazed him so much. There was the tingling in his stomach when she smiled at him, the little leap his heart made when she entered a room. Whenever she was close, he felt a little light-headed, and he couldn’t seem to properly catch his breath. Sometimes, she caught his eye and they looked at each other for a little too long, and by the time she looked away, his heart was racing like he’d run a marathon. He couldn’t understand how she had such a profound effect on him.

The emotions she evoked were equally profound: a deep, warm feeling of affection layered over a bright, sparking joy – an aching tenderness that took his breath away – a soft sense of longing whenever he thought about holding her close. He was surprised to find that this feeling of being in love wasn’t fixed or static, but fluent and ever-changing, every day bringing new shades and nuances to the experience, uncovering a depth of feeling that he hadn’t suspected himself to be capable of. All day long, he was suffused with the buzzing kind of energy that he had only ever felt when working on his plans, but now it had a different cause entirely. Every evening when they said goodnight, it hurt a little. Every morning when he woke up, he couldn’t wait to see her again.

Once in a while, there was something in the way she smiled, something in the way she looked at him, that _almost_ made him hope that she might return even just a little of his feelings, but he never allowed himself to go down that path. He had told her that he didn’t expect anything from her, that he didn’t want more than friendship, and he firmly kept himself to that promise, even in the privacy of his own mind. He was terrified that she would sense it, somehow, if he started wanting more, in that way she had of looking right through him sometimes, and that she would pull away from him again. So he firmly kept himself from hoping anything at all, and focused on being content with what he had, which was a bond that went deeper than anything he’d ever hoped to share with another person.

…

He often lay awake for a while after going to bed because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, but one night in early February, he couldn’t fall asleep at all, and it wasn’t for the usual reason. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, he decided to give up trying and he got up. The house was dark and silent as he opened his bedroom door, quietly so as not to wake Raquel. He went to the solarium, where his chess set was still set out from when they had been playing earlier that evening. They had abandoned the game halfway through to talk, and when it got too late, they had agreed to leave the pieces on the board and continue tomorrow. Now, he carefully lifted a particular black pawn off the board and held it tight as he sat down in one of the chairs and stared out into the night.

“Hey,” a soft voice suddenly sounded behind him.

He jumped a little and turned around to see the figure of Raquel emerging into the moonlight that was falling through the windows of the solarium.

“I heard your door,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” she sighed. “Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

They didn’t turn on any lights, they just sat quietly in the half-darkness for a while, looking at the way the bright moonlight was reflecting off the waves of the sea down below.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” he finally asked her.

She took a deep breath.

“I checked my e-mails on my phone right before going to bed.”

“Something bad?”

“Not exactly, just… I finally received a court date for my divorce.”

He looked at her.

“When?”

“A month from now.”

She rubbed a hand over her face.

“I should probably move it to a later date, since my assignment here won’t be done yet, but I… I _really_ don’t want to be married to him anymore. I want to get it over with.”

“I understand,” he said.

“I’ll have to leave you alone for the day as I go into Madrid, but you should be safe here. And you can always go into the panic room if you see a strange car pull up.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said quickly. “I’ll be fine. But why do you have to go to court? Don’t you just have to sign divorce papers?”

“Usually, yes, but… I’ve decided to ask for a restraining order. I just… don’t trust that he would leave me alone once he can find me again.”

He suddenly felt worried for her. Soon, they would go their separate ways again, and he needed to know that she would be safe.

“I hope you get it,” he said.

“I hope so too. But it means having to go in front of a judge to testify why I need that restraining order.”

In the half-light of the moon, he couldn’t quite read her expression.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her carefully.

She sighed.

“It won’t exactly be fun to talk about… about all of that in front of a judge,” she said. “And… and Alberto will be there. But hopefully after that I’ll never have to see him again.”

“I’m really sorry you’ll have to go through that.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

They were quiet for a while, listening to the soft swishing sound of the waves breaching on the sand at the bottom of the cliff. He kept absent-mindedly turning the pawn around and around in his hands, until she noticed.

“Is that the pawn with the writing on it?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“You know,” she said, turning to him. “You said your brother gave you that chess set, but you haven’t told me anything else about him. What’s his name?”

He felt a sharp stab of sadness.

“Andrés,” he whispered.

Speaking that name after all these months made his throat feel tight.

“Is he older or younger than you?”

“Older.”

“Are you close?”

He couldn’t believe they were talking about him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“We… we were, yes.”

“Oh,” she said softly, “you mean… he’s not alive anymore?”

He merely shook his head.

“Did he die recently?” she asked gently.

“Yes,” he whispered, turning the pawn around again. 

She gave him a close look, and he could see her put two and two together. She’d read his file, after all. She’d seen the name.

“Sergio…” she said slowly, sitting up straighter. “The man Ortega shot… was that your brother?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, folding his fingers over the pawn and holding it tight. A gunshot echoed through his head. A body fell to the ground. And it was his fault.

She took his silence for an answer.

“Oh Sergio,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry. I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He took a deep breath.

“At first I couldn’t,” he said. “Not without giving away my identity. And after that it… just never felt like the right time.”

“What made you think about him tonight?” she asked him quietly.

“It would have been his birthday tomorrow,” he whispered, opening his hand and looking down at the small black chess piece. “If it hadn’t been for me.”

She shifted her chair closer to his.

“I remember when we… when we saw that picture of him, all those months ago… you told me that you felt that it was your fault that he died,” she said carefully. “Why?”

He felt something contract inside his chest.

“Because it was.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him.

He looked down and shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“It might help,” she said gently.

“No, I mean… I _shouldn’t_ tell you. It involves my… my plans, and those aren’t exactly… well… legal.”

She was quiet for a while. He wondered if this reminder of the divide between them was as painful for her as it was for him.

“Can’t you just keep things vague?” she finally said. “As long as I don’t know anything specific, I won’t have to do anything about it.”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“Alright. I’ll try.”

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“What you need to know is that I’ve been working on a plan for an… an operation for about twenty years,” he finally began. “It’s been my life’s work. An homage to my father.”

He couldn’t really read her face in the moonlight, but he was afraid that she might be imagining things worse than they really were.

“It’s nothing really bad,” he assured her quickly. “I’ve told you before that I have strict ethical standards. Nobody would die. Nobody would get hurt. Nobody would get robbed.”

She opened her mouth, and he sensed that she wanted to ask him how that was possible, but of course he couldn’t tell her that, so she closed her mouth again and just nodded.

“Alright.”

“It’s a big operation,” he continued. “Very big. It would require some equipment, and a select team of people who would have to be trained for several months in a secure location. Other people doing some jobs in advance will need payment in advance. The operation itself would be very lucrative, but I needed capital to get started. I’ve been saving up for twenty years, but it still wasn’t enough. That’s where my brother came in.”

“He was a jewel thief, wasn’t he?” she asked. “I remember from his file.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Diamonds, especially. He liked to maintain a certain lifestyle, and he always said that he wasn’t suited for regular employment, so that was how he lived. He was very good at it.”

Talking about his brother in the past tense was incredibly painful, but on the other hand it was such a relief to be able to finally speak about him, especially to her. He gave her a half-smile.

“I’m not sure you would have liked him,” he said. “He wasn’t always a… good person. But he was good to me. So when it looked like I’d never be able to gather the money to set my plans into motion in the timeframe I had counted on, he proposed to help me.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“The stolen diamonds you were selling to Ortega.”

“Yes,” Sergio said, looking down. “Andrés managed to get his hands on a number of top-notch diamonds. If we could sell them for a good price, I would finally have the money I needed to get started.”

“So why Ortega?”

Sergio swallowed hard, a heavy feeling in his chest.

“He was the highest bidder,” he said quietly. “He was the only one offering us the money I needed. We hesitated. We knew Ortega was dangerous to deal with.”

His throat felt tight, and he needed a moment before he could continue.

“I could have waited,” he whispered. “I could have waited another few years to get the last of the money. But I… I didn’t want to. The plans were ready, I… I wanted to get started.”

He could feel the guilt of it press down on him, a crushing weight.

“And now he’s dead,” he said, his voice breaking. “He’s dead because I didn’t want to wait.”

A tear fell onto his lap. Next to him, Raquel shifted in her chair, leaning closer to him.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” she said gently.

“It’s still my fault,” he said, more tears falling. “He was my only family, my only friend, and he died because of me.”

He was holding on to the pawn so tightly it hurt. Then, she reached over and touched his hand.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly.

“How could you say that?” he whispered, wiping away the tears with his other hand. “He died so I could execute _my_ plans.”

“He made a choice,” she said calmly. “He was an adult man and he made a choice to help you. You’re not responsible for any consequences of that choice.”

“Do you really think that?” he whispered.

“I do,” she said firmly. “We can’t go through life taking blame for other people’s choices. We just can’t.”

He felt like that was a reasonable thing to say, but he couldn’t fully accept it, not quite.

“I told you this the last time we talked about this,” she continued, her hand still on his. “But our intentions matter. You’re a good person, Sergio. You didn’t mean for him to get hurt. There are so many other things that contributed to your brother’s death. His own choices, and Ortega’s actions, and just pure dumb bad luck. You can’t take all the blame.”

He took a shuddering breath, feeling the shape of the pawn dig into his hand.

“I can still see it,” he said, the image rising before his eyes, clear as day. “The exact moment that it happened. Ortega pulling out that gun and… and pointing it. His face was… completely blank. It didn’t mean anything to him.”

“Why did he shoot?” she asked him quietly.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I have no idea. I was in the car, I couldn’t hear them talk. It… it just happened… out of nowhere.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice full of empathy. “It’s so terrible that you had to see that. And I understand that you feel guilty about it. I do. I’m afraid that feeling is never going to go away entirely. But it’s not your fault, Sergio, and you have to try to forgive yourself.”

At her words, the weight of the guilt he felt lessened just a little bit. She had a strong sense of morality, and he respected her opinion so much – if she said that it wasn’t his fault, he could almost believe her. He wanted to believe her.

Then she stroked the back of his hand, a gesture so soft and gentle that it nearly undid him. Without thinking about it, he unclenched his fist, letting the pawn fall into his lap so he could turn his hand and hold hers. Her hand fit perfectly in his, and he held on to her, feeling her warmth as the image of his brother falling to the ground slowly faded. She wasn’t pulling away from him. She wasn’t blaming him. She was listening without judgment, and she was kind.

They sat in silence for a long moment as he felt himself calm down in her steady presence. She always had that effect on him – when he was near her, the memories were less vivid, the pain less intense, the guilt more bearable. He remembered those first terrible weeks in the hospital, when he hadn’t had anyone to talk to, and then those equally terrible first weeks in their first house, when she hadn’t been talking to him. That had been the darkest time of his life – his brother gone, his life’s work made impossible to execute, his freedom taken away – and then… then suddenly there she was. A tiny light in the darkness that had grown stronger each day. She’d reached out to him and with each conversation, with each kindness, she’d pulled him further out of his despair, until it wasn’t the only thing he felt anymore. And then she’d done even more for him: she’d given him a new purpose, and hope, and even joy. He didn’t know what he would have done without her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, though the words fell woefully short of what he really wanted to say.

He softly squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his in return.

“Of course,” she said simply, and he felt that they understood each other – they were there for each other. Always. They had both been through hardships this year, they had both been broken when they arrived at that house in October, but they had found their way to each other, and being together had made things better. Infinitely so.

He marveled at this connection he had built with her, a connection that was deeper and more intimate than any he had ever had with anyone before, even with his brother. He had never talked to anyone like this – opening himself up so completely, being so vulnerable. It felt like he was holding out an open palm and offering a piece of himself, trusting that she would keep it safe. Looking back now, he realized that, at a certain point in those first few months, both of them had just started handing each other pieces of themselves. _Here is my fear. Here is my joy. Here is my pain._ He wasn’t sure when it had started, but he knew that he didn’t want it to stop. Showing himself to another person like this was scary for him, but for each piece he offered her, she gave him one in return, and now… now they both contained pieces of each other. How he loved that thought.

They were silent, just sitting with each other. He kept expecting her to draw back her hand, but she didn’t, and he was grateful. He wished they could stay like this forever – if he could just go through life with her hand in his, he would ask for nothing more. He glanced at her face, serene in the moonlight, and he was suddenly struck with a profound realization: that, with his brother gone, she was now the most important person in his life. He wasn’t sure what to do with that realization. He knew what he _wanted_ to do: keep her close and never let her go – but he knew that that was impossible. In just a few weeks, she would disappear from his life as suddenly as she had entered it, and he would have to go on without her, impossible as that seemed now. The thought was so terrible that it took his breath away.

“Look at the stars,” she suddenly said beside him, and he saw that she was looking up at the sky. “Look how bright they are.”

He looked up too. Even in the darkness, the sky was full of light – he just hadn’t noticed it, because he’d been too wrapped up in his worries. Somehow, the sight soothed him.

“Yes,” he said. “They really are bright.”

He decided not to think about the future anymore. He was here with her now, and that was all that mattered.

She squeezed his hand again.

“I’m glad we both couldn’t sleep,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he whispered, “me too.”

“Do you want to go to bed now?”

“No,” he said promptly. “You?”

“No.”

He was glad – he didn’t feel ready to let go of her yet. He wished he would never have to let go of her. She was still looking up at the sky.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her quietly.

“That I should look up at the stars more often. Don’t you think they give you a sense of perspective?”

“In what way?”

“Well… looking up at the night sky reminds me that sometimes we have to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. We only see the stars in their constellations because we’re so far away from them. If we were closer, we wouldn’t see the pattern. It’s the same with life.”

He looked at her, smiling. He loved to hear her talk like that.

“I know what you mean,” he nodded. “Sometimes we don’t see things clearly while they’re happening because we’re too close to them.”

“Exactly. Sometimes bad things happen to us, and it can seem like our entire lives are ruined… but in reality, we simply can’t see that there are still wonderful things waiting for us later on.”

She turned her head to look at him.

“Like how I really hated this assignment when I first got it… but it brought me to you.”

He felt such a warm glow at her words – he was so happy that she felt that way.

“Sergio,” she continued softly, “I want you to know… your friendship means so much to me.”

The glow grew even stronger.

“Your friendship means the world to me, Raquel,” he replied softly. “Really.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, then she looked back up at the sky. He knew he should look away from her, but he couldn’t quite manage it – her face was so lovely in the moonlight. Everything he felt for her was rising up inside him, and he reflected how fortunate he was for having a perfect moment like this with her. Never, in all his life, had he hoped to find anything close to what they shared, and even if she was only in his life for a short time, he would always be grateful for having found her. He felt her hand in his, and he looked up at the sky too. Somewhere up there, he must have some lucky stars.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Loreak, Bucanek and notprincehamlet for their feedback! 💗
> 
> And a huge thank you to thegirloverseas, who is just the best 💗
> 
> Thank you all for reading! 💗 I hope you'll enjoy the chapter 😊

Raquel woke up from yet another vivid dream, her heart beating fast, feeling confused – as happened so often, she had trouble leaving the dream entirely, even after she opened her eyes. Yet contrary to her nightmares of a few months before, she didn’t _want_ to leave this dream. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sink into it again, but then the morning sun peeped out through the clouds outside and woke her up properly. As the fog in her mind cleared, she lay back into her pillows, pressed her hands to her face, and groaned. Sergio. For the past week or so, she’d been dreaming of him every night – extremely vivid dreams of being close to him, of soft kisses and his arms warm around her, which made her wake up aching with longing. This morning, the feeling was even stronger than usual, and for a moment, it drowned out the voice of reason in her mind, and she imagined getting up and crossing the narrow hallway to open his door and just getting into bed with him, to settle herself in his arms and share his warmth, to wake him up with kisses and then to stay in bed with him all day.

Reality was quick to reassert itself, however, and she regretfully pushed away the blissful image of cuddling up to him. It was impossible. She couldn’t, and _shouldn’t_ , forget what he had told her that night in the moonlight, about the plans he had for executing something big. ‘Nothing too bad’, he’d told her, but illegal all the same. They could never be together – she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing as he broke the law in a major way – she couldn’t set aside her own morality like that, everything she had stood for over the last twenty years of her life. Who would she be if she did that?

Yet every time she woke up from a dream like that, she allowed herself to imagine, just for a few moments, that they could actually be together. Perhaps they could make things work after all. Perhaps she could be brave enough to open her heart again, to let him in. She trusted him. She loved him. But then, invariably, the nasty little voice in the back of her mind spoke up. _He doesn’t really love you. Any feelings he might have are just a result of the circumstances you’re in._ She was so scared that that might be true, so she listened to the voice more than she maybe should. _He’s only here because he_ has _to be. If he didn’t have that ankle monitor, he would leave you._ It might well be true, and she hated that she couldn’t be sure of him that way. She couldn’t _really_ trust him as long as he was forced to be here with her, as long as she didn’t know if he would stay with her if he didn’t have to.

She was so afraid to be vulnerable, afraid to start depending on him, only for him to leave her. More than anything, she was afraid that he would break her heart. She sensed how wonderful it could be to be with him, and if she threw caution to the wind and allowed herself to experience that for a while… and then she lost it again… she didn’t think she’d be able to bear it. She was still so fragile, only just beginning to heal, the cracks of the past few years still showing. Another blow might shatter her completely, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to pick up the pieces.

And yet, knowing all of that didn’t stop her from loving him – quietly, deeply – and from dreaming about him every night. The dreams made it hard for her to look at him over breakfast, because every time she did, she imagined his arms around her. She was afraid that he would notice, that he would see something in her eyes that would make him hope... Thankfully, as the day progressed and they started working on the case, she was able to act normally around him again as the dream images faded – though the accompanying feelings never did. The love she felt for him was constant and pervasive, weaving through her days and nights and every aspect of her existence, and she was gradually beginning to realize that she had a serious problem, something she was confronted with every afternoon as they prepared to go for their customary walk along the beach.

Today, she felt it more than ever as she activated the device clipped to her phone to widen the range of his ankle monitor. Over the past few weeks, she had felt a growing sense of unease about this – about the fact that she was the one to keep him a prisoner, that she had full control over his every move and his freedom. She had never really felt comfortable with it, but now it was starting to feel unbearably wrong.

“Can you make the range a little bigger today?” he asked her. “The weather is so nice, I’m in the mood for a long walk. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

She merely nodded and adjusted something on the device. It didn’t feel right that he had to ask her for permission when they had developed such a close relationship. She wanted them to be equals, but that could never happen as long as she was his prison guard. The problem kept her occupied all through their walk, as they went beyond their usual range and the beach got more narrow. They were walking very close to the sea now as they talked, and Raquel noticed that Sergio wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking at all, even as they got closer to the waves. Finally, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him away from an oncoming wave just in time before it flooded his feet. She laughed.

“Careful!”

He looked down in surprise.

“Oh! I hadn’t noticed we’d gotten so close. Thank you for saving me – that would have been a miserable walk back.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“Watch where you’re going now.”

“I will,” he said.

And yet, as they continued walking, he still wasn’t looking at the waves – he was looking at _her._

“What?” she smiled.

He gave her a warm look.

“Nothing. I was just thinking how lucky I am that you’re always looking out for me.”

She felt another stab of discomfort. Was she really looking out for him? Was she doing everything she could? He had done so much for her, been so kind to her, yet she was keeping him a prisoner, and it felt so wrong. Finally, as they turned back, she came to the conclusion that something had to be done. She couldn’t do this anymore, she couldn’t hold him captive like this. She desperately wanted him to stay with her, but she didn’t want him to be here with her only because he _had_ to be. She was so afraid that he would simply leave, but she couldn’t bear it anymore that he wasn’t free – she loved him too much. If he wanted to go, he should have the right to go, no matter how much that would hurt her – but letting him go was not a decision she could make on her own.

So as they approached the house, she told him that she had to make a phone call and he should go ahead. Once he was inside, she pulled out her phone and called Elena.

“Hi, Raquel,” her friend said as she picked up. “Is everything alright there?”

“Hi Elena,” Raquel replied. “Yes, everything is fine. I’m just calling because I want to discuss something with you.”

“Did you find anything in the Ortega case?”

“No,” Raquel said, slowly walking back and forth along the edge of the cliff. “This is about Salva.”

“What about him?”

Raquel took a deep breath.

“I think we should take off his ankle monitor.”

She could clearly imagine Elena’s frown.

“What? Why?”

Raquel had known that question would come, and she had an answer ready.

“Look,” she started, “he’s wearing that ankle monitor because he was charged for the possession and sale of stolen goods, right?”

“Right.”

“What kind of prison sentence would he have gotten for that? Considering that he was only an accomplice and he has a clean record.”

Elena thought about it for a moment.

“Well… depending on how good his lawyer was… probably about five months.”

Raquel nodded – she had made the same assessment.

“Exactly. But he didn’t have to serve that prison sentence because he made a deal with us that he would testify against Ortega. He just had to wear an ankle monitor.”

“Yes,” Elena said carefully. “Where are you going with this, Raquel?”

“Technically, the ankle monitor is making him a prisoner as well. If he had not made that deal with the police, he would have gone to jail and served his sentence – and he would have gotten out of jail after serving five months. That would be now.”

Raquel paused for a moment to let that sink in, then she continued.

“But because he made that deal with us, he’ll have to wait for his sentence to be dismissed _until after he’s testified._ Which could take several more months, or even years. And he’d be a prisoner all that time. Do you think that’s fair?”

“He made that deal in the full knowledge of what he was agreeing to,” Elena said firmly. “We didn’t trick him into it. He agreed to the conditions as they were stipulated.”

“Only because he knew that Ortega would have him killed in prison,” Raquel said quietly. “He only made that choice because he had no other option, so it really wasn’t a choice for him at all.”

From the way Elena sighed, Raquel could tell that she agreed, but she didn’t want to.

“So you think we should just… let him go?” her friend asked.

“Yes,” Raquel said. “It’s the right thing to do. He’s served his sentence. It’s not right to keep him captive any longer.”

“Raquel,” Elena said, her voice strained. “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’ve been working on this case for _months_ now, and it all stands or falls with Mr. Martin’s testimony! If we let him go and he disappears… then we can’t convict Ortega, and all of that work will have been for nothing.”

“I know this case is crucial for your career…” Raquel said, but Elena interrupted her.

“It’s not just my career I’m talking about,” she said, sounding frustrated. “We’re talking about getting a major crime lord off the streets. Someone who’s been responsible for so much misery, so much death, _including_ the death of Mr. Martin’s associate.”

“Yes, and that’s why I think he might not leave if we take off his ankle monitor,” Raquel said quickly. “He wants Ortega to go to jail just as much as we do, because of his associate, and because he’ll never be safe until Ortega is gone.”

“But that was true right from the beginning,” Elena reasoned. “And yet he tried to run away when he was still in hospital.”

“I think he might stay this time,” Raquel said, trying to put as much conviction in her voice as she could muster.

“Why?”

“Because circumstances have changed.”

Elena sounded highly doubtful.

“In what way?”

Raquel turned around and looked back at the house, where Sergio was waiting for her. She took a deep breath. She had to be careful now.

“When he tried to run from the hospital,” she started, “his emotional state was very unstable. He had only just witnessed a murder and he’d been in a terrible car crash. He was traumatized and high on morphine, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. Over the past few months, he’s been nothing but cooperative. I think he realizes the danger he’s in, and that he’s come to appreciate the safety we offer him.”

There was a short pause. When Elena spoke again, her tone was very careful.

“It seems like you’ve gotten to know him rather well.”

Images flashed across her mind, of late-night conversations in front of the fire; of confiding in him about her ex-husband; of holding hands with him in the moonlight as he talked about his brother. If Elena knew about any of that…

“I’ve spent five months in a house with him, Elena,” she said, keeping her tone as dry as she could. “It’s kind of inevitable that I got to know him.”

“Raquel… are you sure you can still do your job in an objective way?”

This was getting dangerous. If Elena suspected that Raquel was emotionally compromised, she’d replace her in a heartbeat.

“I’m still perfectly capable of doing my job,” Raquel said calmly, and she told herself it was true. “I just have a much firmer grasp now on his state of mind, and I’m convinced that he might stay even if we let him go.”

“Did Mr. Martin ask you to make this request?”

There was a definite edge of suspicion to her tone now, and Raquel’s heart started beating faster.

“No,” she said firmly. “He doesn’t even know I’m making it. I didn’t want to give him false hope.”

There was a pause, and she paced nervously as she waited for her friend to speak again.

“Raquel,” Elena finally said, “if you’ve grown attached to him, you’re not looking at the matter clearly.”

“I’m looking at it perfectly clearly,” Raquel said, still keeping her voice steady and calm. “What matters here is what’s right and what’s wrong, Elena, nothing more, nothing less. This is a man who’s served his sentence. Letting him go is the right thing to do.”

She could picture her friend so clearly, her lips pressed together in a fine line as she considered the question.

“He’s been very helpful with the case,” Raquel argued. “Remember that I’ve been able to give you useful information several times because he freely gave me information when I asked him things. He _wants_ to help.”

There was still no answer.

“Any other witness would have the choice to walk away,” Raquel reminded her friend. “We’ve only been allowed to give him that ankle monitor because he also committed a crime. Now that he’s served his sentence for that crime, he should have the right to be treated like any other witness.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t just saying this because she loved him, but because she truly believed it.

“We’re keeping him captive because we need him to testify, and we shouldn’t,” she said quietly. “We’re not allowed to force a witness to testify, and that’s exactly what we’re doing here. We’re forcing him. And it’s not right. You know it’s not right, Elena, and I know you care about things like that.”

Elena finally answered.

“Hmm. Playing to my morality?”

“Not playing to it,” Raquel said. “Trusting it.”

There was another pause. When Elena spoke again, her voice was terribly serious.

“Raquel, you know I trust you. I trust your judgement and your assessment of the situation. I know you’re not making this request lightly. Just tell me one thing… how sure are you that he might stay?”

Raquel swallowed hard. _If he didn’t have that ankle monitor, he would leave you._ It wasn’t true. She told herself it wasn’t true.

“I can’t be 100% sure,” she said. “But I think the chance is high.”

Her friend hesitated for one more moment, then she heaved a big sigh.

“Alright. I trust you.”

Raquel felt a rush of relief.

“You’re agreeing? I can take off the monitor?”

“Yes,” Elena said curtly. “You can take off the monitor.”

“Thank you, Elena. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Please impress upon Mr. Martin that he still plays a crucial role in this investigation, and that his testimony could prevent a lot of harm by getting Ortega convicted.”

“I will,” Raquel said earnestly. “I… I really think he might stay.”

“I sincerely hope you’re right,” Elena said crisply. “Keep me posted.”

“I will,” Raquel said. “Thank you again.”

She pressed the red button on her phone, then she started walking back to the house, feeling such a mix of emotions. She was so glad that he would be free, but on the other hand… _He’s only here because he_ has _to be. If he didn’t have that ankle monitor, he would leave you._ She was so afraid that it was true, and now… in a few moments, she would find out.

When she entered the living room, Sergio looked up at her and smiled, and she felt a terrible sinking sensation in her stomach. Getting Elena to agree to letting him go had been the easy part – now she had to get _herself_ to let him go. She joined him at the table, sitting down next to him with a heavy feeling.

“Did the Inspector have any news about the case?” he asked her.

“No,” she said. “Nothing new.”

She looked at him and told herself that it didn’t matter all that much. In a month, her assignment would be over and she would leave, and they would never see each other again anyway. If she let him go now and he decided to leave, that would only make the inevitable happen four weeks sooner. And yet… she knew she would give anything for an extra four weeks with him. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet – not at all – not even a little bit. But she loved him, and he deserved to make his own decision about whether or not he wanted to stay. After everything he’d done for her, she owed him that.

She took a deep breath.

“I… I discussed something with Elena,” she started.

He gave her a curious look.

“What did you discuss?”

Oh, she didn’t know if she had the strength to do this. The thought that he might want to leave immediately, that he could be gone within the hour, made it hard to breathe. What would she do without him? Then she steeled herself – sooner or later, she’d have to learn to live without him anyway.

“Well,” she said, unable to look at him. “I pointed out that your prison sentence would be done by now, so… so it’s not fair to keep your ankle monitor on.”

There was a pause, and she looked up to see him frowning at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… that you shouldn’t be a prisoner anymore. So I’m going to take it off. The monitor.”

His frown was turning into a look of disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

She lifted her chin.

“Yes. In fact, I’m going to do it right now.”

She took out her phone and activated the monitoring device with its code, then she selected the option to deactivate it. She had to enter her badge number and another code, and just like that, the device beeped and a sharp click sounded from underneath the table. He reached down and brought up the open ankle monitor with a stunned look.

“Raquel… why?”

She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands.

“Because it was the right thing to do. So there… you’re not a prisoner anymore.” The words cost her so much effort, but she said them anyway. “You’re… you’re free to leave if you want to.”

There was a short silence.

“Can I… can I really leave?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice.

Then she looked up at him.

“But you could also stay. You’re safe here. We could… we could continue to work the case here, and you could testify against Ortega when the time comes. You could stay.”

He gave her a long look.

“Would you want me to stay?” he finally asked her quietly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He looked at her for another few seconds, and her heart was beating in her throat. Then he nodded.

“Then I’ll stay,” he said simply.

Her heart leapt.

“Really?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Really.”

“Why?” she asked him, simply because she couldn’t quite believe it.

Now it was his turn to look down.

“You know why.”

She felt such a warm glow. He was staying for her. He didn’t want to say goodbye either. He really cared for her. Then he looked up at her, and something suddenly seemed to occur to him.

“Raquel…” he said slowly, “if I _did_ leave… would you get to go home?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “My assignment is for six months, I’m sure my boss would just place me somewhere else.”

He gave her a firm nod.

“Then I’m staying.”

She wanted to hug him so badly, to get up and hold him tight, but she told herself she couldn’t do that, so she just reached out and touched his hand.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He put his other hand on top of hers and gave her such a warm look.

“No,” he said. “Thank _you,_ Raquel. For arguing my case with the Inspector. I… I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

The way he was looking at her pulled at something in her chest, and she couldn’t look away from him. She loved him, and he loved her. His hand was warm on hers, and he was so close… Without thinking about it, she felt herself lean in to him…

But then she shook herself and pulled back her hand, averting her eyes. What was she doing? He leaned back too and cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said. “I feel like celebrating my new freedom with another walk… just because I can.”

She looked at him and saw that he was smiling. She smiled back at him.

“Alright,” she said, getting up. “We can walk anywhere you’d like.”

As they put on their coats, she felt like a heavy weight had fallen off her shoulders. He was staying. He was staying – because he wanted to – because he _chose_ to. She would have a few more weeks with him, and she was so grateful for that.

…

The next morning, she woke up with a smile. Sergio had been so happy last night, after the monitor had been taken off – humming during their walk, making jokes with her in the kitchen, smiling at her over dinner, which made something flutter in her stomach every time. It had made her so happy in return to see him like that, and she was so glad she’d asked Elena to let him go. It had been the right choice in every way.

She looked at the time on her phone and saw that it was still too early for breakfast, but she couldn’t stay in bed anymore – she was filled with a bright, buzzing energy, and she just wanted to see him again. Still smiling, she swung her legs out of bed and got dressed. When she opened her door, she saw that the door to his bedroom was open too, and her smile widened. Apparently he had woken up early too, which meant that she wouldn’t have to wait to see him. She went into their living spaces, expecting to find him in the kitchen or the solarium, but he wasn’t there.

“Sergio?” she said, but there was no answer.

She shot a look at the bathroom door, but it was open as well, showing that he wasn’t in there either. The sun was shining brightly through the windows of the solarium, however, so she assumed that he must have taken advantage of his new freedom to go for a morning walk. She threw a look out of the front window to see if she could spot him walking along the cliffside… and then she froze.

Her car was gone. It had been parked at the curb right in front of their house and now it was gone. She quickly turned around to look at the little table by the front door, and yes… her car keys were gone as well. He must have taken them. She suddenly had trouble breathing as she realized what this must mean, but it couldn’t… it _couldn’t_ be. She rushed towards his bedroom, her heart beating painfully fast, her thoughts racing. When she entered the room, she saw that it was clean and empty – the bed made, and not a single personal possession anywhere in sight. She pulled open the top drawer of his dresser to see if there were still clothes inside. It was empty.

She felt completely numb as she sank down on the bed. She couldn’t believe it. He was gone. He’d taken his things, and he’d left. In the night. Without saying goodbye. He’d left her. Gradually, it started to really sink in, and the numbness made way for pain. He’d left her. He must have changed his mind in the night, and decided to leave after all, and he’d wanted to make a clean exit. He probably knew that she would get emotional and he had wanted to avoid that, so he’d just… left. He hadn’t even said goodbye. A single tear started trickling down her cheek. She was never going to see him again, and he hadn’t even said goodbye.

_He doesn’t really love you._ The little voice had been right all along. She couldn’t believe that she’d been foolish enough to ever think that he really loved her. Whatever he had felt for her, clearly it had only been superficial, and she felt so _stupid_. Once again, she’d been unable to see a situation for what it really was, once again she’d misjudged a man she loved – and this time, it didn’t just affect her alone – she’d also screwed up a major case and let down Elena, who had trusted her judgement. The thought of having to call her friend and admit that she’d been wrong about him made her stomach turn. She’d made such a mess of things. _Of course he left you._ Yes, she agreed. Yes, of course. _He never loved you._ No, apparently he hadn’t. _You don’t deserve that kind of love._ She wiped the tears from her cheeks. Yes. That was true too. She should never have believed anything else.

She just stayed sitting on the bed. She didn’t have the strength to get up or even contemplate what the rest of her day would look like. The house was terribly quiet around her. She would never see him again. Then suddenly there was a sound outside, and a moment later she heard the front door close. She looked up sharply. Who…? There was really only one possibility, but she didn’t dare believe it. She jumped up and hurried out to the living room, and her heart leapt… there he was. He’d come back.

He was putting down a bag and taking off his coat.

“Good morning,” he said, picking up the bag again. “I didn’t think you’d be up already. I was hoping to…”

Then he turned and saw her face, and he stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

She could only stare at him. She’d thought she’d never see him again and yet here he was.

He took a step closer, looking at her with concern.

“Raquel, what’s wrong?”

Her restraint broke – she just couldn’t hold back anymore. She took a shuddering breath and rushed to him, and he dropped the bag he was holding and the next moment she was in his arms.

“You’re back,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her face against his shirt. “You’re back.”

Carefully, so carefully, he wrapped his arms around her in return and held her, and she just wanted to cry. He was warm and solid and _here_ , he was really here, he hadn’t left her.

“What are you talking about?” he said, sounding so confused. “Of course I’m back. I just went to get us breakfast. I wanted to surprise you, I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

She leaned her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes, feeling dizzy with relief.

“I thought… I thought you were gone.”

She could feel him shake his head in disbelief.

“Of course not! How could you think that?”

“Your room was empty,” she whispered. “Your clothes were gone, and so was the car.”

“Oh,” he said. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. That must have looked… Raquel, I keep all my things in my bag under my bed. I’ve been doing that since we had to leave our first house in such a hurry. I just wanted to be prepared in case we had to do it again. I’m… I’m _so_ sorry you thought I’d left.”

She let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, and held him tighter. She was so glad that he wasn’t making light of this, that he was taking her seriously. He wasn’t scoffing at her, he wasn’t saying that she’d made a big deal out of nothing – he was just holding her and comforting her and she’d never loved him more.

“Raquel,” he said softly. “I would never leave you without saying goodbye. Never. You… you mean too much to me.”

He meant too much to her too – literally – today had proven definitively that she was much too attached to him, but she just couldn’t help herself, and she decided she couldn’t worry about it right now. Comforted by his words and his nearness, she took a deep breath and felt herself relax against him. He was here. He was here and he was holding her, he was actually holding her, and now that the first rush of emotions was fading, she became aware of how wonderful it felt to be this close to him. She had dreamed about this so often, and now it was actually happening, and she was basking in the unutterable satisfaction of holding him when she had wanted to for so long. She was acutely aware of every sensation, and she savored them – his warmth, his smell, the feeling of his arms around her, his chest strong and solid underneath her cheek. It was even better than it had been in her dreams. He was evoking something unexpected in her, something that filled her with wonder: a deep, steady feeling that, somehow, everything was exactly _right_ now _._ She’d never felt anything like this before, but it was unmistakable. It felt so good to hold him, so perfect, as if it had always been meant to be this way, as if the world had been waiting for them to hold each other to start making sense. This was how things were supposed to be. This was where she belonged.

She knew it couldn’t last. She’d still have to leave him, sooner or later – but at least it didn’t have to be right now. Right now, she was finally in his arms and that was all she wanted to think about.

“Are you alright?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said, feeling so warm and wonderful. “Yes, I am.”

There was a short pause, and she felt him take a deep breath as he held her a little closer.

“This is really nice,” he whispered.

She smiled and nodded. For a long time, she made no move to release him, and neither did he – she merely leaned against him, and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, and they stood together silently. They would have to say goodbye at some point, but not now. For now, they would just stand here, and hold each other.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank Bucanek, notprincehamlet and Loreak for their feedback! 💗
> 
> And, also as always, the biggest thank you to thegirloverseas, for so, so many things. You're the best 💗💗💗
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! 😊💗

“I hope I’ll be back before dinner,” she said.

He could see that she was nervous, though she was trying not to show it, and he couldn’t help but admire how brave she was for doing this. If she hadn’t asked for a restraining order, she would just have had to sign some papers and it would have been over – but instead, she had to go to court and tell her entire story in front of a judge, hoping to be believed. He could only imagine how much courage that would take.

“Alright,” he said. “Just text me when you leave in Madrid and I’ll make sure to have dinner ready by the time you get home.”

She’d gone out and bought him a phone specifically for today, and he was glad about that. It would help him feel at least a little connected to her while she was gone.

“You’re not going to go out today, right?” she said, giving him a worried look.

“Of course not,” he soothed her. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Even though he was free now, after he’d gone out to get them breakfast last week, they’d talked and agreed that he shouldn’t go out to the village unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I know it’s a small village,” she said, “and I know chances are very slim that anyone would recognize you, but Ortega has men everywhere and you shouldn’t take the risk.”

She’d told him all of this before, but he knew that she was tense, and he appreciated that she worried about him, so he merely nodded patiently.

“I know,” he said calmly. “I’ll stay inside.”

“Keep an eye on the front window,” she repeated for the tenth time. “If you see a strange car pull up…”

“I’ll go straight to the panic room,” he nodded, walking with her to the front door. “Raquel, I’ll be fine. Just focus on yourself, you have enough on your plate today.”

She nodded, her mouth a tight line as she put on her jacket. He knew that she was dreading seeing her ex-husband again, and he was worried about her. He wished she wouldn’t have to go through this. He wished there was more that he could do to support her – he wished that he could at least go with her, keep her company in the car, be there before she had to go into the courtroom and after she came out. He hated that he couldn’t even do that.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her quietly.

She swallowed and shook her head.

“Not looking forward to today,” she said. “But at least by tonight I’ll be free.”

He nodded encouragingly.

“It’s almost over,” he said.

She ran a hand over her face.

“It’s going to be such a relief not to be married to him anymore.”

“I can imagine,” he said soberly.

They looked at each other for a moment, then she sighed.

“I suppose I should go.”

He hesitated, then tentatively opened his arms to her, and she gave him a grateful look and walked into them. As she settled herself closely against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, he was once again overcome with that feeling of absolute wonder. There had been a time when he’d thought that she would never be comfortable with this kind of closeness, when he’d thought that he would never be able to hold her, and he felt so incredibly lucky now. The fact that she came to him so naturally now, seemingly without reservations, to seek comfort in his arms – it meant so much to him. Since that first time last week, they had hugged each other regularly, but he still wasn’t used to it in the slightest, still not prepared for the rush of emotions he experienced every time he held her: a wonderful warmth in his chest; a joy so complete it made him dizzy; and a deep, aching tenderness. Today, he also felt a strong desire to protect her, to keep her safe from the hurt he knew she would have to endure later, and he only let her go with the utmost reluctance.

“Drive safely,” he said, and she nodded.

“I will. Thank you for… for being so supportive over the past few days.”

He gave her a soft look.

“Of course.”

There was so much more he wanted to say to her – how amazing she was – how grateful he felt that she trusted him and confided in him – how much he loved her – but making her uncomfortable today was the last thing he wanted to do, so he merely said:

“Good luck.”

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and he felt such a rush of admiration for her strength, her resilience.

“Thank you,” she said.

They shared one last look, and then she turned and opened the door.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He watched her walk towards her car and drive away, and he looked after her until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Then he slowly closed the door and turned around to look at the empty house. He’d lived alone all of his life, but over the past months he’d gotten so used to her company, and now it felt so strange to be here without her. Making lunch in the kitchen without her was lonely, and as he settled himself in the solarium afterwards, he felt acutely that something was missing, that things weren’t quite right. She should be next to him.

It was a long day. His worry for her made him restless, and he wished he could go outside to take a walk, but he’d promised her he’d stay inside, near the panic room, and he wanted to keep that promise. After a few hours, she texted him that she had arrived safely in Madrid. He asked her how she was feeling, and after a few minutes, she replied: <<Terribly nervous>> He wished with all his might that he could be there with her, that he could lend her whatever strength she could draw from him, but all he could do was text her back: <<You can do this. You’ve been so strong. You just have to be strong one more time and then it will be over.>> He felt that the words were sorely lacking, but he hoped that she might get something out of them anyway, no matter how little. <<Thank you>> she texted back. <<You’re right. Going in now.>>

After that, there were no more messages, and he knew she was in court now. He kept wondering what she was doing now, and how she was feeling. Was she in front of the judge now, testifying? Was she listening to her ex-husband defend himself? What would it do to her to see him again? To have to talk about everything that had happened to her in front of a judge? He hoped so fervently that the judge would believe her and grant her the restraining order, because it would be such a blow to her otherwise.

Finally, she texted him that she was out and on her way back. The text didn’t say anything else, and he desperately wanted to know the outcome and her state of mind, but he knew she would tell him when she got home. The drive back would take her about three hours, so after two hours he got up and started preparing dinner, glad to have something useful to do, something that was even a little bit helpful. While he was working, he kept glancing out the window, waiting for her car to appear, and finally he saw it pull up to the curb. He quickly turned off the stove and wiped his hands, then went to the front door as she came in. He kept well back from her, conscious that she might not want to be touched right now. She looked tense and tired, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, but that was her decision to make.

“How was it?” he asked her carefully as she hung up her jacket.

“Awful,” she whispered. “Just awful. I’m so glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too,” he said quietly. “Did you get the restraining order?”

She nodded, and he felt so relieved. In just a few weeks, she would be going home, which meant she wouldn’t be hidden from her ex-husband anymore, and now at least he knew she would be safe.

“Well done,” he told her softly. “Well done, Raquel. That was so brave of you.”

She took a deep breath and ran a hand over her face.

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t feel very brave, but at least I did it.”

“You’re free now,” he said. “You’re free.”

She looked up at him with a slight smile.

“Yes. Finally divorced. I can’t really believe it yet, that I’ll never have to see him again.”

“Was it hard?” he asked her in a low voice.

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Yes. Seeing him was… it was harder than I thought it would be.”

He wished that it hadn’t been necessary for her to face him again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She gave him a grateful look.

“If you don’t mind? I… I don’t think I can eat yet.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” he said quickly. “I can warm up the food later.”

She sat down at the table, and he sat down next to her. She took a deep breath and shook her head, looking down at her hands.

“I saw him the moment I walked into the building,” she began. “And I just… suddenly I was right back there, and I felt again all the… all the fear, and the helplessness, and the pain he’d made me feel. For a moment I… I thought that I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

She looked up at him.

“But then I got your message, and it helped. It reminded me that, no matter what happened, you believed me. No matter what happened, you were waiting for me, and I would end the day with you. That gave me something to hold on to.”

He felt so grateful and humbled that the thought of him had given her strength when she was struggling, the way _her_ words and presence had always given him strength when _he_ was struggling.

“It was still awful,” she went on, looking down again. “Having to… to talk about everything he did to me in front of a stranger, not knowing if she’d even believe me.”

He nodded, filled with empathy for her.

“That must have been difficult.”

She nodded, hard lines appearing around her mouth.

“It was. But the worst part was when Alberto got to have his say and he… he denied everything. He just stone-cold lied about _everything._ Said that we’d had some… ‘spirited arguments’, but that he’d never touched me. He said that I’d always had a tendency for exaggeration and… and that I was lying because I was mad at him.”

He could see that it really upset her, but she was trying hard not to show it, making a supreme effort to keep herself together. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be strong anymore, that it was okay to be upset, but he sensed that she wasn’t ready to let go yet. So he stayed quiet and just listened to her. All he could do right now was be there for her.

She told him how hard it had been to just sit there, listening to her ex-husband tell lie after lie, not knowing who the judge would believe. Then they’d had to wait for a while for the judge to deliberate, and it had been agony. Finally, the verdict came in in her favor, and he could see in her face how relieved she’d been, how relieved she still was, and he silently thought that he shared the feeling.

“Though it still hasn’t fully sunk in,” she said. “I still feel… so tense. It doesn’t fully feel like it’s over yet.”

“You just need some time,” he said gently. “You’ve been living with this divorce for months, I think it’s only normal that you need time to let go of it.”

She nodded. He sensed that she was still carrying a lot of tension and unresolved pain, but the worst of the pressure seemed to be off now that she’d been able to talk about it.

“Thank you for listening,” she said, confirming his thoughts. “I feel a bit better now.”

“Would you like to eat?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she nodded firmly. “Yes, let’s eat and let’s talk about something else. How was your day?”

During dinner, they talked about other things, but he kept shooting her worried glances when she wasn’t looking. He suspected that she was just pushing down all the hurt of the day, and though she seemed outwardly strong, she also felt curiously fragile to him, like she might break at any moment. After dinner, he didn’t want to leave her alone, and she seemed to be eager for his company too, so they stayed at the table, talking, until it was quite late.

“Raquel,” he finally said tentatively. “Don’t you think you should go to bed? You’ve had such a long day.”

A shadow fell over her face, and he suddenly saw a terrible vulnerability in her eyes.

“I know,” she said reluctantly, looking down. “But I’m afraid of… of the memories, and the nightmares.”

Then she looked up at him with an appealing look in her eyes.

“Sergio,” she said quietly, “I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“I understand,” he replied softly.

She hesitated.

“Would you… would you maybe stay with me?”

He felt so touched that she would ask him that, showing how much she trusted him.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course I’ll stay with you. If you’re sure you’d like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’d like that very much.”

…

Raquel closed the door of her bedroom so she could change into her pajamas, and the moment she was alone, the memories of the day crowded her mind, exactly the way she’d feared. It had all been so horrible, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it, other than to push it all down. She knew that it would probably be good if she could allow herself to cry, to let everything out so she could let go of the anger and the pain, but she still felt too tightly-wound, not ready to let go of anything yet. She was terrified that, if she let go, she would just… fall apart.

She changed into her pajamas as quickly as she could so Sergio could come in. She was so grateful that he would stay with her tonight, that she wouldn’t have to be alone. He was waiting just outside the door when she opened it again, still fully dressed, looking a little nervous as he walked into her room. She felt a little nervous too – this was new for them – but she trusted him so deeply, and she didn’t feel uncomfortable having him in her room. She got into the bed and smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Are you okay?”

She hesitated.

“More or less.”

He took the chair on which she usually put her clothes and sat down, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Aren’t you getting in?”

He looked surprised.

“Into the bed, you mean?”

She chuckled.

“Of course. Were you planning to just stay sitting there all night?”

“Well… yes,” he said. “I was.”

She shook her head at him.

“You can’t do that, Sergio, you need to sleep too.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t be uncomfortable,” she said softly. “Really.”

When he still hesitated, she patted the space next to her.

“Please?” she asked him quietly. “I… I’d like to have you next to me.”

He gave her a soft look, then he nodded and got up to get in.

“Aren’t you going to put on your pajamas?” she asked him.

He looked at her and hesitated, then he shook his head.

“I… I don’t want to leave you alone.”

There was a soft feeling in her chest. How did he always seem to understand what she needed? He carefully got between the sheets and they lay down side by side, looking at each other for a long moment. Raquel was reminded of the previous time they had slept next to each other: that first night in their previous house, when they had slept in front of the fire. How far they’d come since then. He’d been handcuffed back then, and now he was a free man again – but even more significant was the shift in their relationship. He wasn’t her prisoner anymore – they were fully equals now, and he was here with her because he wanted to be. She never would have thought that they’d become as close as they were now, that he would become her main source of comfort, that she’d one day ask him to sleep next to her because she knew it would make her feel better. She was so glad that life had led her in this unexpected direction.

“Does this feel alright for you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It does.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

He shook his head.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m… I’m so happy you asked me.”

They looked at each other again. He didn’t make any move to touch her, and she appreciated that. Part of her wanted to be closer to him, but there was another part that was still too tense, the emotions of the day a hot, painful ball in her stomach that she wasn’t ready to face. She didn’t think she could let herself be held right now. If he held her, she knew she would cry, and she didn’t want that.

“You should sleep,” he said quietly. “You must be so tired.”

She nodded and settled herself more comfortably.

“Yes, I am.” She hesitated. “I… I might have bad dreams. I’m sorry if I wake you up.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said softly. “I hope you won’t have any bad dreams, but if you do… I’m here.”

She felt such a rush of gratitude and love for him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He shook his head again.

“No need to thank me, Raquel. Really.”

She wanted to go to him, to see if his closeness and his arms around her could make her forget some of the pain and anger, but she was so afraid she’d fall apart that she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Goodnight, Sergio,” she whispered.

“Goodnight,” he replied, reaching over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table.

In the dark, she couldn’t see him anymore, and though she knew he was still there, she suddenly wanted some tangible proof of that. She tentatively reached out to him and found his hand, and the next moment he carefully closed his fingers around hers. As always, touching him made her feel better, and she took a deep breath as she felt some of the tension leave her. She was so grateful that he was next to her and that she wasn’t alone. Comforted by his presence, and exhausted from the long day, she fell asleep almost instantly.

She sank into a deep, dreamless sleep for a while, but then she started dreaming, and much as she’d suspected, her dreams quickly turned to nightmares. She found herself in the courtroom again, listening to her ex-husband talk – she could see his cold eyes so clearly, the sneering expression on his face as he denied everything. Then the dream shifted into something worse, something that went deeper – his eyes angry now, his hand raised. Once again, she was gripped by that terrible, gut-wrenching fear as she relived the worst of it: the blows when she was least expecting them, the way he cornered her, the moment he broke her wrist. The remembered feeling of the breaking bones made her wake up with a start, and she sat up with a gasp, her heart pounding painfully as she felt herself teeter on the edge of panic, the darkness confusing her. Then Sergio stirred next to her and turned on the lamp.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “It was just a dream.”

It was just a dream. The panic faded. It was just a dream. As the adrenaline drained away and the full impact of the dream hit her, she could feel herself begin to shake. Instinctively, she turned towards Sergio, seeking out his warmth and his comforting nearness. He opened his arms to her and she moved into them without even thinking about it, settling herself close to him and pressing her face against his chest. She was so grateful that he was here, that she wasn’t alone. She tried to take deep, calming breaths in an attempt to steady herself, but she was so full of pain and sadness, and her defenses were low in the middle of the night. Sergio was holding her so gently, his arms warm around her, careful not to hold her too tight.

“It’s alright”, he murmured again. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated her with such care and tenderness, and it made her feel so many things. The emotions she’d been suppressing all evening were threatening to overwhelm her, and she was struggling to keep them back. Then he started stroking her hair, so tenderly, and it undid her.

The hurt and the anger, the helplessness and the fear, it all rose up inside of her and suddenly she was crying, crying so hard – deep, shuddering sobs that shook her entire body as she finally let go. Sergio merely held her, making soft sounds as he kept stroking her hair.

“It’s alright,” he kept repeating softly. “It’s alright.”

She held on tight to him and let the tears flow. It felt so good to cry – like releasing a breath she’d been holding for too long – finally letting out all the grief and all the pain that had collected inside of her. She cried for the person she’d been before it all happened, for the unfairness of it all, for the years she’d spent in the shadow of the violence. She cried for the pain she’d gone through, for the helplessness, for the fear. She cried for the scars that would never fade, and for everything she’d lost.

Sergio didn’t try to shush her, he didn’t tell her to stop – he just let her cry, which encouraged her to let the tears run their course. For once, she didn’t try to be strong, she didn’t try to pull herself together. Here with him, she felt safe enough to open herself up in complete vulnerability, showing him the depth of her feelings, unafraid that he would pull back from her. She was so grateful that he was here with her, so glad that she didn’t have to go through this alone. His arms around her were an unspeakable source of comfort.

The more she cried, the more the pressure inside of her eased. Little by little, she felt like she was releasing all of her pent-up emotions, the hurt and the anger and the painful memories, until they were just that – memories. For too long, she had carried those horrible experiences with her, under her skin and in her nightmares, but now she was coming to fully realize that it was over – after today, it was well and truly over, and she finally felt that she was ready to start letting go. It would still take time, but today was a start.

Finally, there were no tears left to cry, and the sobs subsided, leaving her feeling empty and relieved and curiously clean. She hadn’t fully been aware of the weight she’d still been carrying, but now a large part of it was gone, and she felt lighter than she had in years. It was over. She would never have to deal with him again. She was free. It was such a relief.

She stayed in Sergio’s arms for a while as her breathing slowly returned to normal and the last of the tension left her, leaving her feeling a little tired but calm. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and gently disengaged from him, sitting up to pull a tissue from her bedside table and wipe her face. He sat up too.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, and she meant it. “I am. I’m sorry for… for breaking down like that.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I think you needed it.”

She nodded, wiping away the last of the tears.

“I think so too.”

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked her carefully.

“Yes,” she said. “Much better.”

She took a deep breath and realized that it was true. Things inside her were quiet and calm again, and she felt more balanced than she had felt in a long time. There were things that she would carry with her for the rest of her life – memories that would never leave her, and scars that would never fade completely, but she felt for the first time that, one day, she might be whole again. She sensed that healing might be easier now that that chapter of her life was finally closed. She looked at Sergio. He’d already helped her heal more than she’d thought possible six months ago.

She lay back down and so did he, and her hand found his again. He’d done so much for her. She remembered how on edge she had felt at the beginning, in their first house – how angry she’d been, how suspicious, how she’d expected the worst of everyone and everything. She remembered the low-level feeling of dread that had been with her constantly, the expectation that, inevitably, something bad was going to happen. Slowly but surely, Sergio had helped her out of that mindset. He had made her feel safe for the first time in years. He had allowed her to start believing again, in goodness and kindness and joy. She looked at him now, lying beside her, looking at her with that steady gaze, and she felt her hand warm in his. There had been a time when she’d feared she would never recover from it all, but he’d helped her through it. She could barely believe it, but she’d even been happy again. He made her happy.

The nightmare was a distant memory now, and she felt herself settle into the present moment with a wonderful feeling of contentment – the bed was comfortable underneath her, the blankets warm, and Sergio was next to her. It felt so right to have him next to her. There was something about the late hour, about the darkness outside and the warm half-light coming from the small, shaded lamp on the bedside table that made it feel like they were outside of time, just the two of them. Daylight and reality and her usual worries seemed very far away, and there was nothing but softness in her chest as she looked at him. She felt closer to him than ever.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He shook his head.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did,” she said. “Thank you for being here.”

“Anytime,” he said softly. “Really.”

“And thank you for… for everything else. For the past months. For understanding. For supporting me.”

He looked at her steadily.

“I need to thank you too,” he said. “For all the same things.”

She squeezed his hand, and he gently squeezed back.

“I’m so grateful we found each other,” she whispered.

He gave her such an earnest look.

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I was so lost when you found me, Raquel. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You… you are the best thing that could have happened to me.”

His words resonated with her so strongly, and she shifted a little closer to him.

“I feel the same way about you,” she said. “Things have been… so difficult. But you made them better. You still do.”

He gave her such a warm look.

“You make everything better too,” he said.

They were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. The soft feeling in her chest intensified as she looked into his eyes and remembered how he had held her, how he had stroked her hair. He might just be the best man she’d ever known.

“You’re always so nice to me,” she whispered. “Always. Why?”

He gave her a soft look.

“Because you deserve it,” he said. “Because you’re warm, and kind, and so amazing.”

He looked down, his voice a whisper now.

“And because… because I love you.”

She’d known that, but hearing him say it still sparked something inside her, something so warm and golden and joyful. The feeling was bright and uncomplicated, and it took up her entire chest – it felt like she had cleared out all the old hurt and now there was room inside of her for new things, untainted by the shadows of the past. Everything she felt for him seemed purer now, and stronger, so strong that she felt like she would burst if she didn’t let it out. She took a deep breath, then spoke softly.

“I love you too.”

He sharply looked up at her, his eyes wide.

“Raquel…” he whispered. “Really? Do you mean that?”

She gave him a warm smile.

“You can’t be surprised. You must have known.”

“Well I… I did think you cared for me, but I never hoped…” He looked at her with an expression of wonder. “Do you really love me?”

“Of course,” she whispered, and it felt so good to finally admit it. “Of course I do.”

His eyes were shining.

“Raquel,” he said quietly. “That makes me so happy.”

She shifted nearer to him.

“I feel… I feel so safe with you, Sergio. You’re so sweet, and so kind. You’ve been so wonderful to me.”

He looked at her, and his eyes were so warm.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me too.”

It suddenly felt unbearable to be apart from him. She moved closer to him, settling herself against his chest the way she had done earlier, then she sighed happily as he took her in his arms. It was such bliss to be this close to him, and now that she was calm again she could fully enjoy it, basking in his warmth and nearness, pressing her face against his shirt and breathing in deeply. How she loved to be this close to him, how she loved the shape and the smell of him, how she loved to feel his arms around her. How she loved _him._

“Oh Raquel,” he said, his voice the merest whisper as he held her close. “You mean so much to me.”

She tilted her face up to look at him.

“You mean so much to me too.”

She couldn’t help herself. She had to express the way she felt somehow. She softly pressed her lips against his cheek.

He looked so undone by that kiss, as if it had touched him deeply. He bent his head and leaned his forehead against hers, and she closed her eyes as she felt that warm sense of connection to him, stronger than ever. They stayed like that for several long moments before he pulled back and gave her a tentative look.

“Raquel,” he whispered. “Can I kiss you?”

She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and she wanted to say yes so badly. Oh, she felt so drawn to him, the pull of him so strong, and she was so tired of trying to resist that feeling. She’d been so afraid, so afraid that he would break her heart, but staying apart from him was just breaking her heart in a different way, and she knew she would always regret the wasted moments she could have spent with him. She knew there were reasons not to do this, but tonight, she didn’t want to think about any of them. Tonight, it was only the two of them, and the rest of the world seemed so far away. She looked into his eyes, and nothing else mattered anymore, except that she was here with him, and that she loved him.

“Yes,” she whispered back, then she held her breath as he bent his head, expecting to feel his lips against hers… but he merely pressed the softest kiss to her hair. She smiled and closed her eyes, the soft feeling in her chest getting stronger than ever. He was so sweet, so adorable. Oh, she loved him so much. Now he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose. She lifted her face and kissed his cheek again, and he kissed hers, over and over again, his kisses feathery and sweet, and then it just felt like the most natural thing in the world to let her lips brush against his, just a little, just for a moment.

He drew back slightly and gave her such an earnest look, hopeful and uncertain in equal measure.

“Are you sure?” he asked her softly. “Are you sure you want that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling more certain about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her life. “Yes, I’m sure. _So_ sure.”

He gave her a look of such tenderness that it made something flutter in her chest, in her stomach, in her throat. The feeling grew even stronger as he lifted a hand and stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes at his touch. He was so gentle with her. She felt so cherished, so loved. Then he slowly bent his head and softly, so softly, pressed his lips against hers, and she couldn’t remember ever feeling this kind of happiness, quietly glowing, the moment immeasurably soft and warm and intimate.

She kissed him back, tentatively, slowly, at first just letting her lips lightly brush against his, again and again, before engaging more fully, his mouth so warm and soft against hers. She didn’t want to hurry this – it was tender and new, and she wanted to savor every moment, every sensation. She lifted a hand and touched his cheek, stroking his beard, then she let her fingers drift into his hair. How she loved touching him like this – how good it felt – how right. She kissed him again; long, lingering kisses that she blissfully let herself sink into as she nestled herself even closer to him, her legs entwining with his. Everything about this was such a delight: his nearness, his warmth, the feeling of his arms around her, his fingers gently stroking her hair.

He didn’t ask anything more of her, seeming perfectly happy just to feel her lips against his, allowing her to fully enjoy the feeling. The way he kissed her was so sweet, every moment of it so soft and lovely. As always, he made her feel so safe: a deep, steady sense of certainty that he cared for her, that he would always treat her right, that he would never ask more of her than she was willing to give. She trusted him in a way that she’d feared she would never be able to trust anyone ever again – in a way that she couldn’t imagine trusting anybody else. He looked at her, and his eyes were so warm and soft that she felt a responding thrum in her chest, and she couldn’t help but kiss him again.

It was the middle of the night, but there was no talk of sleeping. Neither of them wanted to waste a second of this night – they just stayed close together and shared kiss after kiss after kiss. The bed became their whole world. Nothing existed outside of it, nothing else was real, as their closeness carved out a little space outside of time and reality, a space only for the two of them, where they were only aware of each other. She wanted nothing except to stay close to him and share this perfect moment. Her fingers traced the familiar features of his face, until he turned his head and kissed her palm, his eyes closed. The gesture was so soft and intimate that it made her ache, and she realized with a sudden rush of emotion that this might well be the happiest moment of her life – the most tender, most joyful moment she had ever experienced.

She didn’t know how long this would last – how long it would take before their little bubble burst and reality became unavoidable again. Maybe they only had tonight. But if they did – if they did – she was going to savor every second with him, every kiss, every embrace – every moment a precious memory she would hold close forever. She decided not to worry about tomorrow, and just enjoy this night with him, tender and beautiful and theirs.

_I love you,_ they whispered over and over again. They were holding each other as close as they could, hoping that time might stop and leave them their happiness. _I love you. I love you._


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! A HUGE thank you for the lovely reactions to the last chapter, both here and on Twitter and in private messages! It made me so happy that you liked the chapter! 😊🥰💗
> 
> A big thank you to Bucanek and notprincehamlet for giving feedback on this chapter! 💗
> 
> And the biggest thank you to Loreak and thegirloverseas, for encouraging me to completely work out a certain part even though I really didn't want to 😂😂 Thank you, the chapter is much better for it! 💗
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! 😊💗

The first thing she became aware of as she rose up out of sleep was his arms around her, and she felt a slow, tingling feeling of joy manifest in her stomach as she realized that it hadn’t been a dream. He was really here with her, in her bed – after so long, she could barely believe it. She instinctively shifted closer to him and cuddled up against his chest, and he rumbled softly as he held her a little tighter. For too long, she’d had to stay apart from him, for too long she’d had to resist her longing to be close to him, and now she allowed herself to bask in the unutterable satisfaction of waking up in his arms. She couldn’t imagine a better way to start the day – she was quite sure there wasn’t one.

For a while, she let herself drift in and out of sleep, feeling wonderfully warm and protected, half-formed thoughts flitting through her mind of how she wanted to spend the rest of the day – the rest of her _life_ – in bed with him. She didn’t want to wake up properly. She didn’t want the day to begin, because she knew they would have to talk about what to do and what they were to each other now, and she was afraid of how that conversation would go. She didn’t want to think about it yet – she just wanted to stay right here with him, in this dreamlike state between sleeping and waking, where nothing had to be defined and they could just be.

Wonderful memories kept surfacing of the night before, memories of soft, slow kisses that had made her feel so loved. How she’d loved those kisses – every single one of them – from that first tender, innocent kiss he’d pressed to her hair, to the delicate intimacy of feeling his lips warm against hers. Without opening her eyes, she turned her head and started pressing soft kisses to his chest, breathing deeply of the warm, wonderful smell of him. Then she trailed her kisses upwards, over the collar of his shirt, to kiss his neck, enjoying the feeling of his skin under her lips. He shifted slightly and made a small sound of contentment as she kissed the line of his jaw and then his cheek, the hairs of his beard tickling her. When she got to the corner of his mouth, she could feel that he was smiling.

She finally opened her eyes to see that he was looking at her, his eyes warm and still soft with sleep.

“Good morning,” he murmured. “That’s the best way anyone has ever woken me up.”

“Good morning,” she replied, unable to keep herself from smiling. “How did you sleep?”

“Unbelievably well,” he said, still giving her that warm look. “I had the most amazing dream.”

“Really?” she smiled.

He raised a hand and brushed a lock of hair from the side of her face.

“Or maybe,” he whispered, “maybe it wasn’t a dream at all.”

He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. She sighed happily and kissed him back, her fingers stroking the back of his neck as they sank into a slow, soft kiss, effortlessly reestablishing the closeness they had shared last night. It felt so good to be so close to him – so utterly and unmistakably _right –_ and for a moment, the thought that she might not spend the rest of her life with him was absurd. And yet – and yet…

She knew they should get up and talk, but she kept putting it off, moment after moment, as they held each other close. She didn’t know how many more kisses they would get, so she savored each one to the fullest – one more… one more… one more... She wasn’t sure how she would ever stop kissing him, in the knowledge that each kiss might be the last if they decided that they couldn’t be together. She knew the conversation was inevitable, but she didn’t know if she had the strength to face it. Over the past months, when her life had felt like a storm, he had been her shelter – the one thing she could always count on, the one person keeping her steady. The thought that she might lose him took her breath away.

But in the end, they couldn’t postpone it any longer. It had to be done at some point, and every moment that she kept holding him would only make it harder to say goodbye. So she pressed one last, long kiss to his lips, then she pulled back from him with the utmost reluctance.

“I think we need to talk.”

The look he gave her was very serious.

“Yes, we should.”

Yet neither of them made a move to get out of bed.

“Does it… does it have to be now?” he asked her.

She swallowed hard.

“I… I think it might be best,” she said. “There’s no sense in… in prolonging this if we can’t figure things out in the long term.”

He gave her a sad look.

“I don’t want to leave this bed, Raquel,” he said quietly. “Being with you is… so wonderful. I don’t want to lose that feeling.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, and she closed her eyes, her throat tight. Last night had been so wonderful for her as well. What if she never got to sleep next to him again? What if she never got to hold him or kiss him again? The thought was nearly unbearable. They didn’t move for a long moment, just connecting.

“I wish we could just stay like this,” he whispered.

She nodded, but then she steeled herself and drew back.

“I know,” she said. “But we can’t. We have to talk.”

He gave her a dejected nod.

“Yes, you’re right.”

She felt an aching sense of loss as he opened his arms and shifted away from her. The moment he stopped touching her, she wanted to reach out to him and pull him back, pull him close, never let him go. But she had to be strong now.

As she got out of bed, her heart started beating faster. She was so scared to have this conversation, so scared that they wouldn’t be able to find a solution. They couldn’t be together if he was going to do something terribly illegal – she just couldn’t be involved in that – it would cost her her job, her morals, her integrity, everything she had worked for and stood for all of her adult life. So she knew what she had to ask him: if he was willing to give up the operation he was planning, for her. She knew it was a lot to ask. She knew that he might say no. There was a small, scared part of her that told her not to ask him at all, but to just say goodbye to him and part ways now. He had told her that he loved her, but she was terrified of finding out the limits of that love. She knew the heartbreak of simply leaving him would be easier to bear than if she presented him with a choice – and he _chose_ not to be with her.

And yet she knew she would try. She _had_ to try. If they had even the slightest chance of being together, then she owed it to herself to try. What she felt when she was with him wasn’t something she could just dismiss – it was deep, and important, and real. She knew it was incredibly rare to find something like the connection they shared, and if she just walked away from it now, she would regret it for the rest of her life. Apart from that, something had shifted inside her after yesterday, something crucial. She’d been so afraid that she would break beyond repair if she got hurt again, and while she knew that it might feel like that for a while, she also had a new-found confidence in her own ability to pick herself up again. She’d been through so much already, and she’d survived. With all her might, she hoped that she wouldn’t have to do it again, but if she had to… she knew she could survive again. So she pushed down her fear, she pushed down the little voice that told her he would never choose her. She would be brave. She would take her heart in her hands, and give it to him.

They went into the solarium, which was warm and bright with sunlight, the view of the azure sea out the window magnificent as ever. They turned two chairs, then sat down opposite each other, their knees touching, their hands held, their heads close together. For a long moment, they were quiet. Raquel was acutely aware of the fact that the next hour or so might determine the course of the rest of her life. It was an awful feeling, like she was balancing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if she would fall. Often, defining moments in life passed by without the people involved being aware that they were defining moments, but not this one. This one was crystal clear.

Finally, she pulled herself together, took a deep breath, and started.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s talk about… about our circumstances. As long as we’re in this house, it doesn’t really matter that we have… different professions. But we won’t be here forever, and then we need to know how we’re going to deal with things.”

He nodded.

“Yes, we do.”

She had to take another deep breath before she could ask her next question.

“Sergio, the first thing I need to know is… is what you want… out of this relationship. If you don’t want a long-term thing anyway, then we don’t have to…”

Her heart was beating fast as she spoke, but he interrupted her even before she could finish.

“I want to be with you,” he said, such an earnest look in his eyes. “I love you. So of course I want a… long-term thing. Very much so.”

Then his expression changed, and she saw some of her own uncertainty reflected in his face.

“If… if you want that too, of course.”

She leaned closer to him.

“Of course I do,” she said softly.

He gave her such a warm smile, but she felt like they needed to get this perfectly clear. She still remembered what he’d told her over Christmas.

“It’s just that you’ve told me before that you’ve never had any… ‘significant’ relationships, and I would understand it if you didn’t want one now either.”

He shook his head, his expression very serious.

“Raquel,” he said, “what you need to know is that… I’ve never felt about _anyone_ the way I feel about you.”

She felt her heart soar, and her hopes with it.

“What I feel for you, Raquel,” he continued, “is something I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. I only realized a few weeks ago that I was. I’m not sure why it’s never happened to me before – maybe I’ve just ended all of my relationships too fast, before something real could grow out of them. Or maybe I was just with the wrong people.”

He looked up at her.

“But I have no doubts at all about what I’m feeling now. Somehow… I’ve found the right person.”

Her throat felt tight.

“Really?” she whispered.

The look he gave her was open and full of love.

“Raquel,” he said. “I’m yours.”

She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t kiss him until they’d figured this out, but she just couldn’t help herself – she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, and he twined his fingers in her hair and kissed her back. They allowed the kiss to continue for moment after sunlit moment, unwilling to let go of each other. If they had been any other couple, the conversation would be over now, after they’d both made clear that they wanted the same thing – but they weren’t any other couple, and the next part would be harder.

Finally, Raquel drew back from him, though they kept holding hands.

“Alright,” she said. “Now that we know what we want, we have to see if… if we can find a way to make it work.”

Her heart was beating fast again, but there was no way around this. She would have to lay her cards on the table.

“I can’t be involved with a criminal, Sergio. I can’t be complicit in illegal matters.” She took a deep breath, trying to find the words to express why this mattered so much. “If I lose my integrity… I lose myself.”

He gave her a serious nod.

“I understand.”

She shifted slightly in her chair.

“You told me you’re planning something big. Are you… are you really set on doing that?”

He hesitated for a moment, and her heart was pounding almost painfully. Was this it? Was this the moment she lost him?

“Raquel,” he finally said, “can I try to explain to you why this operation is so important to me?”

She swallowed hard, but he had the right to make his case.

“Of course,” she said.

He started talking, telling her about his father, revealing for the first time what he’d done for a living and how he’d died. Then he told her about working on a plan that he wanted to execute as an homage to his father, a tribute, to honor his memory. He told her how he’d been working on those plans for twenty years. The more he talked, the more Raquel felt her heart sink. This project was clearly all-consumingly important to him, something he didn’t just want to do for the money, but for a deeply emotional reason as well, and he’d been working on it for _so_ long. She felt that she couldn’t ask him to give that up, that she _shouldn’t_ ask him to give it up, when he’d dedicated half his life to it. She was afraid of losing herself if she was involved with a criminal – but she sensed that he would lose himself just as much if he had to give up this plan. She couldn’t ask that of him.

“You’re very invested in this,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question.

“I am,” he nodded. “It’s my life’s work.”

She felt numb. She realized that she’d counted on them being able to work things out, because it seemed so utterly impossible to part from him. But if one of them had to give up their core identity so they could be together, then they simply couldn’t be. A relationship built on a foundation like that could never be healthy or equal. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to say this.

“Then I think… I think we need to say goodbye,” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. “This will never work.”

Letting go of his hands was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she desperately needed to be alone now. She quickly got up before he could see her cry.

“I’ll call Elena to get someone to replace me.”

Before she could leave, however, he caught her wrist and stopped her.

“No, Raquel, wait.”

She turned back to him, feeling both hope and hopelessness in equal measure.

“My work is important to me,” he said. “But so are you. I don’t want to lose you, I… I don’t want to imagine my life without you. Please… please sit down again. We can’t give up just like that. _Please_.”

She hesitated – she simply couldn’t see a way out of this – but she hoped so fervently that he might be able to think of something. She sat down.

“Look,” he said, taking her hands in his again. “I know this is a problem, but it’s not a problem _right now._ I needed the money we would get from selling those diamonds. Without it, I can’t execute my plans in the near future. It will take me a lot of time before I can get that kind of money together and the operation becomes a possibility again.”

“How much time?” she asked him.

“Years,” he said. “Four, five, at the least.”

She hesitated. Five years was a considerable amount of time. Wouldn’t it be better to have five years with him than absolutely nothing? Five years of happiness… she could see them so clearly. Waking up next to him every day – the late-night conversations she loved so much – introducing him to her mother and sister – taking trips together to the beach and the mountains. How she wanted that – she wanted it so badly. But then another image rose before her eyes: of having to say goodbye to him after all those years, of the life they would have built together crumbling around her. If it would hurt to say goodbye to him _now_ , how much more wouldn’t it hurt after five years of growing closer? Could she really be with him if she knew their relationship had an end date?

No, she decided. No, she couldn’t. She shook her head.

“That doesn’t solve our problem,” she said. “It just postpones it for a while. We’d still have to break up at some point.”

He gave her a considering look.

“Raquel,” he said, “I think your objections to my work are mostly moral, and I respect that. But I have a strong code of ethics myself, and there are reasons why I think that my operation, while not technically legal, is not strictly _morally_ wrong _._ If I explained them to you, I think you might even agree with me. But in order to do that, I’d have to explain my entire operation to you.”

She hesitated. She didn’t want him to tell her things that would make her feel obliged to turn him in – but then she remembered something he’d told her before.

“You wouldn’t kill anyone, right?” she said. “Or hurt anyone?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I would never do that.”

She took a deep breath.

“Alright,” she said. “Then you can tell me what you’re planning and I won’t tell anyone.”

He gave her a look of relief, then he started talking, hesitantly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm. He started outlining his plans, describing how he would lead a team that would enter the Royal Mint in Madrid, take the people there hostage, and start printing money. As he talked, Raquel’s eyes went wide – this operation was so much bigger than she’d expected, and audacious to the point of arrogance. How did he think he would be able to get away with something like that? She asked him how he was going to keep the police from entering, and he started explaining all the tactics he had for delaying that: dress the hostages like the team, a machine gun at the loading bay doors, and a high-profile hostage who would cause diplomatic problems. Raquel was astonished by how intricate his plans were, how well-thought-out, how _brilliant_. She started asking questions, and with every detail he revealed, she was more impressed. Finally, he said that he’d told her everything she needed to know, and he gave her an anxious, expectant look.

“So… what do you think?”

She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed.

“It’s… I mean… that’s quite something.”

He gave her a slight smile, and she could detect a hint of pride in his expression.

“Like I said… it’s my life’s work.”

“And it’s incredibly clever,” she said. “I’m sure it could work. But Sergio… how could you _possibly_ say that this isn’t morally wrong?”

“We wouldn’t hurt anyone,” he said. “We wouldn’t rob anyone.”

“But you’re breaking the law in about a million different ways!”

He shook his head.

“Laws are arbitrary constructions,” he said. “They have nothing to do with morality, and they’re made to serve the powerful. Because of your job, you’ve been taught to look at the world in terms of right and wrong, and you automatically think I’m wrong for breaking the law. But there are so many shades of grey between right and wrong: you see, the same thing I’d be doing – printing money – is okay to you when other people do it. In 2011, the European Central Bank made 171 billion euros appear out of nowhere. That’s the exact same thing I would be doing, only on a much bigger scale. They printed 185 billion in 2012. 145 billion in 2013.”

This was clearly something he’d been thinking about a lot, something he’d researched extensively. She leaned forward, interested to see where he was going.

“Do you know where all that money went?” he asked her. “To the banks. Straight from the factory into the pockets of the rich. And that’s legal. That’s normal. Those are ‘liquidity injections’. Yet they come out of nowhere, Raquel. Out of absolutely nowhere. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to do the same?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. In a way, he had a point.

“I would be making a liquidity injection too,” he continued, raising his head. “But not for the rich this time: into the actual economy, benefiting regular, normal people.”

He reached out to the chess board standing on the little table next to his chair, and held up the black pawn with the writing on it.

“The pawns. People like you and me.”

She nodded slowly, and he continued.

“We’re living in a world of ever-widening inequality,” he said. “The rich get richer, while the vast majority of us have to work so hard, our entire lives, just to survive. So many people struggle. So many people live in poverty, barely scraping by, while the top one percent lives in unimaginable luxury. The system isn’t fair, Raquel, it just _isn’t._ And I want to fight it.”

She had to agree with him there – it was true that the system wasn’t fair. As a policewoman, she’d had first-hand experience with that: she’d seen plenty of poverty and injustice, and it had always bothered her, it had never felt right. So she had to admit that she was interested in the case he was making – but there was one gaping hole in it.

“But how would you be fighting the system by executing your plans?” she said. “You’d be printing a ton of money – which means that you’d just become a part of the system you’re claiming to fight. You’d use a cheat code, and then you’d be part of the one percent as well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t have to be rich,” he said. “I want to have enough to… to escape the little life that’s all a regular person can dream of under capitalism. But the rest of the money, I’ll give away to charities and such. Make at least a bit of an impact.”

“It would still be a very small impact,” she said quietly. “Compared to all the misery and injustice in the world. A drop in a bucket. Is it worth the risk?”

He looked up, and his eyes started shining.

“But that’s the amazing thing about this plan, Raquel. Our operation will be an _incredibly_ public act of defiance. For _days,_ it will be all anyone’s talking about, from the big news stations to the man on the street. All over the world, people will see us make a statement against the injustices of capitalism, and it will get them thinking. It will get them talking, to their friends and families. And hopefully, it will make them realize that the world doesn’t have to be this way. Hopefully, it will make them raise their heads and demand a fairer, more just society. I guarantee you, Raquel: people will come out into the street to protest. They will demand change. They will vote differently. And sooner or later, the people in charge will have to listen. What I’m doing may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but I hope it will be the stone in the water that will create ripples that grow ever bigger.”

He took a deep breath.

“That’s what I’m hoping to accomplish. That will be my legacy.”

She stared at him. She’d come to know and love him as a gentle, mild-mannered man, always kind, always careful – but now he was showing her that he was so much more than that: he was an idealist, a revolutionary. A rebel. A dreamer. She couldn’t help it – she loved that. All this time, she’d thought he was planning something illegal for his own gain, but really he was trying to change the world. That was something she had to respect.

He gave her an uncertain look.

“Do you understand my reasoning now?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I think I do.”

“And do you… do you agree with it?”

That wasn’t a simple yes or no question – there was so much to consider.

“I… I don’t know. I need to think about it. It’s a lot to take in.”

He nodded.

“Of course.”

There was something she was wondering about.

“What would you do afterwards?”

He shrugged.

“Go abroad. Do whatever I wanted. Live… live a good life, a better life than I could have here.”

He looked up at her and gave her an appealing look.

“A life with you,” he said softly. “If you’ll have me. We could go abroad together, buy a house by the beach somewhere. You… you seem to really like the beach. And I have to admit that I’ve grown fond of it… being here with you.”

She couldn’t keep herself from smiling. He was right – it had been so nice living here with him, and she felt herself begin to sway. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to continue the life they’d been living, only… better? But it couldn’t be that easy, could it? What he was saying sounded very appealing, but… but she couldn’t just leave her entire life behind? She shook her head – she had to face reality.

“I can’t leave my mother,” she said. “She’ll need a lot of care soon, and my sister isn’t exactly a caring person.”

“Bring her,” he said immediately. “We can take her with us when we leave.”

She stared at him.

“You… you wouldn’t mind that?”

He leaned forward, his eyes soft.

“Raquel… as long as I get to be with you, I don’t care about anything else. Of course I wouldn’t mind. She can live with us, we could hire a nurse.”

That was so sweet of him, and she felt herself relent… but then she shook her head again. There were other aspects to consider.

“What about my job?” she said. “You may have worked for twenty years on your plans, but I’ve also worked twenty years to get where I am now. I… I don’t want to throw that all away.”

He gave her a careful look.

“I would never ask you to give up something that’s really important to you,” he said. “I know you’ve worked hard to get to where you were as an Inspector. But Raquel… look at where you are _now_. Look at what they did to you – punishing you for speaking out about a colleague. Is that… is that really the kind of environment you want to keep working in?”

She hesitated.

“It’s going to get better,” she argued. “In a few years, Elena will be Commissioner, and I’m sure things will improve.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Then I think the main question is: do you really love your job?”

She automatically opened her mouth to say yes, but then something stopped her. Memories of late nights at the office came to mind, of working under immense pressure. Inappropriate advances from colleagues she’d been brushing off for years. Things she’d had to do that she didn’t actually morally agree with. The stress. The difficult decisions. The blatant misogyny. There was so much about her job that she wouldn’t miss. But still…

“In my job, I make a difference,” she said. “However small. In getting criminals off the streets, I make the world a little better. That’s important to me.”

He gave her a serious nod.

“I understand that. But if you came with me, you could make the world better too. We would have so much money, and you would be able to invest it in projects you believe in. The impact you could make would arguably be much bigger.”

She’d run out of arguments. He leaned in closer to her and took her hands, then looked up into her eyes.

“Don’t you ever want to leave it all, Raquel? Don’t you ever want to escape?”

Suddenly she could see it so clearly, the life he was offering her: a house by the beach – no more worries – a life with him. A good life. A better life than she had now. And she wanted it – of course she wanted it. But she couldn’t let herself be swayed just like that – she couldn’t make this decision on an impulse. There were still things about his plan that he didn’t like: taking people hostage, including a number of minors; risking the lives of his team and the hostages and the police alike. Could she really agree with that? She knew she wanted to be with him, but first, she had to figure out if she could live with what he was proposing to do. And she couldn’t make that decision while she was near him, while he was holding her hands and looking at her like that – she just couldn’t think clearly like that.

She took a deep breath, and gently pulled away her hands.

“I have to think about this, Sergio. I… I can’t just make a decision like that on a whim – this would change my entire life.”

He sat back and nodded, though his eyes were full of anxiety. She realized that he didn’t want to say goodbye any more than she did.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

She got up.

“I think I’ll go for a walk. Clear my head.”

“Alright,” he said. “I… I’ll wait for you here.”

She could see that he was nervous. She wished she didn’t need to leave him hanging, but this decision was too important – it could change her entire life. She went to the front door and put on her jacket, then she looked back at him, standing beside his chair in the solarium, looking after her. When their eyes met, she felt such a strong urge to go to him – to run into his arms and let him hold her – to draw down his head and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. The thought that she might never kiss him again felt unbearable, and she almost gave in to her longing… but then she pulled herself together. She _had_ to know if they could be together in the long term, she _had_ to know if she would be able to live with herself if she let him do what he was planning to do. There was no sense in postponing that decision – she couldn’t live with that kind of uncertainty, and neither could he. So she took a deep breath, gave him one last look, and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I usually don't write any end notes because I feel that my writing should speak for itself, but this time I think some of you might be questioning why Raquel needs so much persuading and time to think, when in the show she makes the decision to join Sergio literally within minutes. So I want to explain my reasoning here :) In the show, the situation is very different: Raquel is under enormous pressure and she has to make her decision immediately. If she had the time to think about it more, I'm sure she would have. Then there's the matter that, on the show, she's joining him after the heist is already (almost) over and there have been no civilian or police deaths. In other words, Raquel is joining him after the fact, knowing that it didn't end badly for any innocent people. In this story, on the other hand, she has to decide whether or not she wants to join him beforehand, when she doesn't know yet what the human cost of the heist might be. I think Raquel would have a lot of trouble with the fact that Sergio would take so many people hostage, including minors. I can't imagine that she wouldn't at least have to think about it, and that it might even be a reason for her not to want to be associated with the heist or Sergio in any way. I think it might even make her feel that it's her duty to report him to the police after all, despite her promise. Which one will it be?? Find out in the next chapter on Sunday! 😂😂 Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! :) Love you all for reading 💗💗


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! A quick announcement about my updating schedule. I'm really, really sorry, but I need to take a two-week break from the story. A combination of work, (mental) health issues and family matters have caused me to fall behind on writing and I need to give myself some room to breathe or I'll burn out. If everything goes well, I should be able to post the next chapter on March 7. I had really hoped I'd be able to keep up my twice-weekly schedule for the entirety of this story, and I'm so sorry for disappointing you, but I have no choice 🙈 Thank you so much for understanding! 💗
> 
> A big thank you to Loreak, Bucanek and notprincehamlet, who read this chapter more than once after different edits. You're all amazing! 💗
> 
> And a huge thank you to thegirloverseas, as always, for helping me with each step along the way, and for generally being the best beta reader and friend 💗
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! 😊💗

The moment Raquel stepped outside and breathed deeply of the cool sea air, she knew that it had been a good decision to step away from the house for a bit. The last two days had been incredibly intense, and her head was reeling. First there had been her divorce hearing, then her breakdown in the middle of the night, then finally giving in to her longing for him, and those wonderful kisses. And now, mere hours later, getting all of that information, having to make a life-altering decision… it was a lot.

She started walking along the edge of the cliff at a brisk pace, trying to get some clarity. She knew what she wanted: she wanted to be with Sergio. She also knew that she could be with him in a heartbeat if only she told him she was on board with his plans… so now she had to try and figure out if she _was_ on board with them. She didn’t want herself to be led by her feelings for him in this decision, or by the tempting picture of the life she could lead with him – she had to try and make up her mind as independently as possible, because if she ignored her moral compass right now, she would regret it later. Her moral compass didn’t feel as steady as it usually did, however – it felt like her view of the world had undergone something of a shift. She had always seen people breaking the law as morally wrong and her own people – the police – as the morally right ones. But it wasn’t that simple, was it? She felt that, on some level, she’d always known that, but she was only now coming to terms with it – now that she had a reason to look at things from the other side.

When she and Sergio had discussed her job earlier, Raquel had felt something change in the way she regarded it. There had always been things about her job that she’d been uncomfortable with, and the older she got – gaining insight and experience – the more uncomfortable she became. There had been convictions of people she was sure were innocent – tactics for finding or questioning suspects that she didn’t agree with – suspected cover-ups of police brutality or misbehavior – and then the things she’d experienced firsthand: the misogyny, the expectation of blind loyalty towards colleagues and superiors, and the silencing of people speaking out. She suddenly realized with a blinding clarity that the dichotomy in her mind between right and wrong, between police and criminal, had always been artificial, and that things were much more layered than that.

Of course there were good people among her colleagues as well. She thought immediately about Elena – for a long time now, Raquel knew that she’d been looking at the malpractices around her with the thought that Elena would soon become Commissioner and everything would be better. But really, there was no guarantee of that. Time and time again, she had seen more deserving people get passed by for promotions in order to promote blind loyalists. Elena was objectively the best person for the job, but it was far from certain that she’d ever become Commissioner – and even if she did… she was only one person. She wouldn’t be able to clean up the entire police system on her own. And Raquel had to wonder if, under those circumstances, she wanted to remain a part of that system – a system that had betrayed her so completely.

For the first time in her twenty-year career, Raquel forced herself to take a really honest look at the organization she was a part of, trying to set aside the feelings of loyalty that had been drilled into her, to ignore the insistent feeling that she was betraying her people. It was painful to realize, but she saw now that she had always refused to face the truth. For years and years, she had turned a blind eye towards the things that bothered her about her work, because she told herself that, in spite of everything, she was doing something good, something worthwhile. She told herself that she was making a difference. But after twenty years of loyalty and hard work, she had been punished for speaking up, and now she’d been shifted off to witness protection for god knew how long – if Elena didn’t make Commissioner, it might be forever. So did she really want to keep this job? Did she owe her bosses any loyalty at this point? And would she really be able to make the positive impact she wanted to make on the world like this? Wouldn’t she make more of an impact if she joined Sergio?

She thought about everything he had told her: about resisting, about fighting an unjust system – about providing people with an example, with hope, with something to think about and stand behind. She’d always thought that change should be effected in small and systemic ways, from the bottom up, through political action, but she supposed she could also see the value of the kind of shock tactic he was proposing. She admired that he wanted to stand up and fight and make a statement. They’d talked a lot about moral relativism over the past months, and it became especially relevant here. What he was planning would be breaking the law – but did that make it wrong? And, more importantly: could she support it in good conscience?

It took her several hours of walking to make up her mind. She didn’t try to hurry her decision – she deliberated every point and tried to feel out what her gut was telling her. Over and over again, she kept coming back to the central questions: if he did everything he’d told her about – could she live with that? Could she be with someone who did something like that? And could she live with the fact that knowing about it made her complicit? The sun was low on the horizon by the time she was finally sure of her answer.

She went back inside to find him pacing nervously.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting for so long,” she said. “I just wanted to be absolutely sure.”

“Of course,” he said, gesturing towards the solarium. “Were you… were you able to make a decision?”

She picked up a pencil from the table as she walked past it.

“Well,” she said as they sat down. “It depends.”

He gave her a tentative look.

“On what?”

She looked at him.

“Your willingness to negotiate.”

This wouldn’t be easy for her. She was so afraid to lose him, but if they were going to make it work, then she had to make sure that she would be able to live with herself.

He blinked.

“You… you want to negotiate with me? About what?”

“Your plans,” she said. “I understand why you would need to take people hostage – I don’t like it, but I understand. But I need some guarantees.”

“What kind of guarantees?” he said carefully.

She twisted her hair up and pinned it in place with the pencil, and immediately, she felt herself slip into her role as a negotiator – this was what she was trained for, and after all of these months of inactivity, it felt good to play this part again. It felt so strange to have to be confrontational with him, but she told herself she could do it. She took a deep breath and sat up straighter.

“First of all,” she said briskly. “I want to be sure that you’ll do everything in your power to make sure people won’t get hurt – that includes the hostages, but the police as well.”

He looked a little taken aback by the sudden change in her attitude, but then he nodded.

“Yes, of course. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that nobody will get hurt.”

“Then secondly,” she said. “I want your promise that the hostages will be treated well during the entire duration of the operation. Sufficient food and water, access to bathrooms and sinks to wash, and medicine for the people who need it.”

“Done,” he said immediately. “That’s part of the plan anyway.”

“Alright,” she said, “but I want more than that. I want you to impress on the people in your team that the hostages should be treated with dignity and respect at all times.”

She leaned forward.

“And I want you to tell the men in particular: under no circumstances are they allowed to take advantage of any of the hostages. _Under no circumstances._ Is that clear?”

His expression was very serious.

“Yes,” he said. “Perfectly clear. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She sat up straight again.

“Good. Then we can move on to the next thing.”

He shifted nervously.

“What’s the next thing?”

She steeled herself. She expected some pushback on this, but she was determined to try.

“I want full access to your plans. I want to be able to review every detail.”

He gave a careful nod.

“I suppose that’s reasonable.”

“That’s not all, though,” she said. “I also want the right to veto anything and everything I don’t like.”

He stared at her.

“Are you serious?”

She lifted her chin.

“Yes.”

“Raquel, I’ve been working on these plans for _twenty_ years. They’ve been balanced in an incredibly delicate way – every detail is the way it is for a reason.”

“I don’t care,” she said staunchly. “I want a say in them.”

He was considering her.

“How about a compromise?” he finally said. “I’ll show you my plans, and we can debate the things you don’t like.”

She hesitated. This was important to her, but she also desperately wanted to find a solution, a way they could be together. It was only reasonable that they’d both compromise.

“Would you truly consider the things I say?” she asked.

“Yes,” he nodded solemnly. “I swear I will. You’re smart and you’re capable and you have years of experience as a police officer. I would very much value your input, and I would treat any objections you make with all due consideration.”

She nodded – she remembered that he’d already promised her to do everything he could to minimize any hurt to people. If she saw something that was potentially dangerous, and she reminded him of his promise, she knew he would keep his word and change things.

“Alright,” she said. “No vetoes then, but the right to argue. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he said. “Is… is that it?”

“No,” she said, taking a deep breath. The next bit would be the hardest, and she was nervous. If he said no to this, then she would lose him. The thought took her breath away – she wished she could just give in to him, she wished her conscience would just shut up – but this was something that really bothered her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it if she let him go through with it.

“There’s one thing I really can’t stomach,” she started, “and that’s the involvement of the minors. I understand why you would be taking the child of a highly-placed diplomat hostage, but… but I can’t accept it, Sergio. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He was frowning.

“But that’s a crucial part of the plan. It will give me leverage to…”

“I know” she interrupted him. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t let you execute a plan in which minors might get hurt, or seriously traumatized. I can’t. It’s not right, and I won’t just let it happen. This is my main condition, and I’m not willing to debate it.”

She could see that his mind was working fast, and her heart was racing, her mouth dry, but she told herself she wouldn’t give in.

“It’s just…” he said, “I’m not sure if things would work without that high-profile hostage…”

“You’re a smart man,” she said. “You’ll figure something out. After all, you’ll have four to five years to rework your plans.”

He hesitated for a while, his eyes unfocused as he considered things, then he looked up at her.

“What if I agree?” he said. “Would you… would you be able to live with the rest of the plan?”

She felt a rush of hope. Did this mean he was considering it? Would they be able to reach an agreement?

“Well,” she said, “I’ve given it a lot of thought… and I agree with you that your motivations are… understandable. Even admirable. You’re right that the system isn’t fair.” She could feel herself soften a little as she continued. “And… and I do want that life with you… somewhere warm, on the beach… I do want that…”

His expression reflected the hope she was feeling herself as she continued.

“So I agree. I agree with… what you’re planning.”

His eyes were wide.

“Raquel… really?”

She steeled herself again – one last push.

“Yes, but only on the condition I stipulated. No minors. Not a single one. I… I’m not willing to compromise on that, Sergio.”

He leaned forward.

“If I say yes… then we can be together?”

“Yes,” she said, her heart beating almost painfully hard. This was it. This was the moment she would find out how much he cared for her.

He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Then yes, Raquel. Yes. Of course I’m willing to rework my plans if it means… Yes.”

For a moment, she felt dazed with relief, and she had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself before she could speak.

“Then… it’s a yes for me too,” she whispered. “I’m joining you.”

He was looking at her like he couldn’t quite believe it yet.

“Are you sure?” he said quietly. “Are you really sure about this?”

She considered it for one more moment, but it felt right. If he kept to all the things they’d just agreed on, then it didn’t feel like she was compromising her values, or sacrificing her integrity.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

His eyes were shining.

“Then… then it’s settled?”

She was still dizzy with relief that they’d managed to work out this issue, and she wanted nothing more than to say yes and go to him… but she couldn’t do that quite yet, and she didn’t remove the pencil from her hair. There was one more thing.

“I have one more condition,” she said.

“Alright,” he nodded seriously. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath and raised her chin.

“I want to be there with you. When it happens.”

He stared at her.

“What?”

“I want to be there, when it all goes down. I want to be in the control room with you.”

He looked completely stunned.

“You… you want to be there with me?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “First of all, I want to make sure, as much as possible, that the hostages will be okay. If I can be there, if I can have some measure of control over things, that would make me feel much better about it all.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Secondly,” she said, “I don’t want you to man that control room alone. That’s an insanely stupid thing to do. You have to sleep, you might have to leave at some point, and then who’ll be watching the cameras? So many things could go wrong that way. You need a second person there.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want you taking that kind of risk.”

“You’ll be taking the same risk,” she argued.

“I don’t want you to put yourself in danger like that!”

“I’m an adult,” she said steadily. “That’s my decision to make.”

He leaned closer to her.

“Raquel…” he said quietly. “You’ve been through so much. I don’t… I don’t want to put you through any more… any more distress.”

She gave him a fierce look.

“And you think waiting for you while you go out to risk your life wouldn’t cause me distress? No, Sergio, if you’re set on doing this then I’m doing it with you. I want to be there with you, I need to be able to help if anything goes wrong. Really, if you think I’d be content just to sit quietly somewhere while the man I love puts himself in danger, then you don’t know me _at all._ ”

He hesitated, but she could see that he wanted to say yes.

“You can’t do this alone,” she said, her tone softer now. “You need a partner.”

His eyes were wide.

“Raquel…” he said. “Are you sure about this?”

She leaned forward and took his hand.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, my love. I’m with you.”

He looked at her, speechless.

“God, Raquel,” he finally whispered, taking her hand in both of his. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

They looked at each other for one more moment, and then suddenly she was in his lap and she was kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. A warm, glowing feeling started up in her stomach and quickly spread to the rest of her body as she realized… it was over. They had worked things out, they had _actually_ managed to work things out. They could be together. She wouldn’t have to leave him. She could barely believe it. His hand was in her hair as he kissed her back, causing the pencil to fall out, and as her hair cascaded down around her shoulders, she could feel herself soften as the assertiveness of the Inspector drained out of her. She could be soft again. She could be his again.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his shoulder, breathing in deeply, and he wrapped his arms around her in return and held her tight.

“Oh, Raquel”, he whispered against her hair. “Oh, I love you so much.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into him, feeling like she could cry. She wouldn’t have to leave him.

“I love you too.”

It was an inexpressible joy to be in his arms, to know that she wouldn’t have to let him go ever again. For several long, long moments, they just held each other close.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “I can’t believe I get to hold you like this. I can’t believe that… that I get to be with you. I feel so incredibly lucky.”

“Me too,” she whispered back. “I really thought that it was over, before. I’m so glad we made it work. I’m so glad you told me everything.”

“Thank you for listening,” he said. “Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being… the amazing, _amazing_ person that you are.”

He held her a little tighter.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you, Raquel.”

She held him closer in return, her throat tight.

“Me neither.”

Then she looked up at him.

“But now we never have to find out.”

His eyes were so soft.

“No,” he whispered. “Never.”

She reached up and drew his head down, and he put his lips on hers in an infinitely tender kiss. She stroked his hair as she kissed him back, feeling wonderfully, glowingly happy as it really sunk in. They would be together. They would build a life together, and she could already imagine it, with all its small habits and tiny miracles. Kisses when she came home from work. Sharing a cup of coffee in the morning, and a blanket in front of a movie at night. Sleeping next to him. Holding his hand. She would have all of that, and so much more – a life that would be better in every way than the life she’d been living over the past few years – she was so sure of that. She didn’t wonder if they’d be compatible living together – she didn’t worry if they would be able to make it work. They’d been living in the same house for almost six months now, spending every day together. It couldn’t be any clearer that they could make it work.

They spent a long time wrapped up in each other, sharing soft kisses and caresses, and she felt the return of the closeness they had shared last night – only even better, because this time there was no looming uncertainty in the morning. This time, she knew the feeling would last. So as the sun went down outside, she kissed him and kissed him, reveling in the sensation when she’d been afraid she might never kiss him again. It almost felt too good to be true – all the obstacles between them gone.

But then he gently pulled back and gave her an uncertain look.

“Raquel… there’s one more thing…”

“Hmm?” she said, stroking his beard. She just wanted to keep kissing him, why was he stopping?

“It’s almost April,” he said quietly, and that brought her back down to earth.

“Yes,” she said, nodding soberly. “I know.”

“What… what are we going to do when your assignment ends? We only have two weeks left.”

She could see in his eyes that he was dreading her answer, and she shared his worry. It felt unbearable that they should be torn apart, so soon after they had found each other.

“If you leave,” he said, before she could reply, “I’m not staying in the witness protection program. I have a safe house of my own that I can go to, but I… I don’t think you should visit me there. I want you to be safe.”

She felt her worry increase. 

“No, Sergio, please don’t leave the program. I want you to be safe too.”

He shook his head.

“I can’t… I can’t stand the thought of you being replaced by a stranger, and… and having to live with them.”

She gave him a soft look and touched his cheek again.

“I don’t want to be apart from you. Not now. Not… not this soon.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you either,” he said, a little desperately. “But what choice do we have?”

“I could stay,” she said quietly.

He looked at her.

“Are you… are you serious?”

She nodded, feeling that this was the right choice to make.

“I could call my boss, and ask him to extend my assignment. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, since it would mean that he wouldn’t need to find someone to replace me.”

He hesitated, but then he shook his head.

“No, you can’t do that for me.”

She gave him a slight smile.

“I’d be doing it for me too. I want to be with you, Sergio. I… I don’t think I could leave you right now, not for any length of time. I think this is the easiest way we can be together.”

“But… but you’ve been stuck in a house for six months because of me, barely able to go outside, incapable of going anywhere or doing anything. I just… I can’t ask you to keep living like this.”

She took one of his hands in hers.

“Sergio,” she said. “I love you. I don’t want to… I _can’t_ say goodbye to you right now. I just can’t. I’m staying.”

There was a curious mixture of hope and frustration in his eyes.

“But it could be months before the case is over,” he said. “Maybe even years. You can’t stay with me all that time, Raquel. What about your life? Your family, your friends? What about your mother?”

The thought of her mother made her hesitate. It was true that she missed her, that she worried about her, that she wanted to take care of her.

“Maybe… maybe I can go into Madrid every once in a while, like I did yesterday, so I can see her.”

He gave her a pained look.

“But you’ve said… you’ve told me that you want to spend time with her while you still can. Before she slips away entirely. I don’t want to keep you from that.”

She was struggling to find a solution, torn between the people she loved. Finally, she shook her head and sighed.

“Let’s just see how things go over the next few weeks. If I can go into Madrid about once a week, then I think I can stay with you for at least a few more weeks.”

“And after that?” he said quietly.

“After that… well, we’ll see how we solve things then. Maybe I could be replaced, just for a few weeks so I could spend some time at home, and then come back.”

She could see that the thought was deeply unappealing to him – but she was making sacrifices, so she hoped that he would be willing to do the same. She looked at him anxiously as he thought about it. 

“Alright,” he finally nodded, however reluctantly. “Let’s just… let’s just hope Ortega is found before that has to happen, then.”

“It won’t be much longer now,” she said, though she had no reason to believe that. She just wanted to give him some hope. “I’m sure we’ll have a breakthrough soon.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

“I’m sure I am,” she said. “But we don’t have to worry about it now.”

She started stroking his cheek again, trying to bring him out of his worries.

“I just want to be happy today,” she whispered. “Because we can be together. It may be difficult for a while until the case is solved, but in the long run we can be together. That’s all I want to think about right now.”

She could see him soften as he came back into the moment.

“You’re right,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. “All I want to think about right now is you.”

His eyes were so warm as he looked at her. Then he bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and she sighed happily as she sank into it, all other thoughts extinguished. His mouth was warm and soft against hers, and she thought how she would happily spend her days doing nothing but kissing him. Yesterday and that morning, their kisses had been mostly innocent and sweet, but now she found that she wanted more of him. She opened her lips, just a little, and he responded by doing the same. When the tip of his tongue touched hers, she felt herself shiver.

“Yes?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered back, and soon they were exploring each other, slowly, taking their time, savoring each sensation. It was such a delight to discover him like this, to feel him, to taste him. He was gentle but thorough, and she could feel herself melt against him as he kissed her deeply. His kisses were making her feel warm and a little breathless, and the way her body was reacting to him made her mind turn to other things – but she knew she wasn’t ready for that level of intimacy yet. She wasn’t sure how Sergio would think about these things, though, so she pulled back from him, just a little.

“Sergio,” she said tentatively. “Would you mind if… if we took things slow?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes a little worried. “Was that too much?”

“No,” she smiled, giving him a warm look and a soft kiss. “No, it was lovely. I just mean, beyond kissing.”

He shook his head.

“No, of course I wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s just that I only just got divorced yesterday, and…”

He gave her a soft look.

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said. “I mean, you can tell me if you want to, of course. But you don’t have to. If you want to take things slow, we’ll take things slow, and you don’t have to tell me why.”

She felt such a surge of gratitude.

“Are you sure you don’t mind waiting a few days?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Of course not,” he said earnestly. “I don’t mind waiting at all, and it doesn’t have to happen in a few days either. If you need more time before you’re ready, that’s perfectly alright. Take all the time you need.”

She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said.

He shook his head.

“I don’t see why you should thank me for that.”

He pulled her a little closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Raquel,” he murmured, “as long as I get to hold you, and kiss you, and be with you… I don’t need anything else.”

She looked into his eyes. She couldn’t believe how safe he was making her feel. The thought that she would be able to explore this wonderful connection between them at her own pace, without any pressure, without any expectations… it made her feel so free. She’d never felt like that before in any of her relationships. She kissed him again – a long, slow kiss that lingered for several moments.

When they broke apart again, she suddenly became aware of the fact that her stomach was growling, and she realized that she’d barely eaten anything all day.

“Shall we make some food?” she proposed.

“Hmm,” he said, giving her a thoughtful look. “Would that mean that I’d have to let go of you?”

She smiled.

“Well… maybe a little.”

He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek.

“I’m not sure I can.”

He was irresistible. Without thinking about it, she turned her face and kissed him again, but then her stomach gave another rumble and she pulled back.

“Come on,” she said. “We have to be strong now. We can’t sit here and starve.”

And yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of him either, so when they both got up, they walked to the kitchen hand in hand. They had cooked together so often that they automatically fell into their usual tasks, and Raquel wondered at how this felt so familiar, yet nothing was quite the same. They couldn’t stop smiling at each other as they worked, and they kept reaching out for little touches. They had agreed on pasta, so when the sauce was simmering away on the fire and Raquel was stirring it, Sergio came to stand behind her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. She closed her eyes and smiled as she leaned back against him – god, she felt so, so happy.

“I’ve always liked cooking with you,” he murmured in her ear, “but I like it even better now.”

She couldn’t stop smiling as she lifted the spoon out of the sauce and offered it to him over her shoulder.

“Here, taste.”

He took a taste and nodded appreciatively.

“Mm, yes, very good.”

“Does it need more salt or spices?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Alright,” she said, “then it can just simmer for a few minutes.”

She turned around in his arms and put her own arms around his neck, looking up at him with shining eyes.

“What shall we do while we wait?”

He was looking longingly at her lips.

“I do have an idea,” he said.

“Funny,” she smiled. “I think I have the same idea.”

She leaned into him. This was the first time she was kissing him standing up, and she found that she had to stand up on her toes to do it.

“I never realized quite how tall you are,” she smiled. “I can barely reach.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes.

“I think I know how to solve that.”

He tightened his arms around her, and the next moment she laughed in delight as he lifted her off the ground, bringing her face level with his.

“There,” he smiled. “Better?”

In response, she took his face between her hands and kissed him deeply. He put her down on the kitchen counter and leaned against her legs as he kissed her back, and soon they were completely wrapped up in each other, losing themselves in kiss after kiss after kiss. With her hands in his hair and his arms around her, Raquel lost all sense of her surroundings, just blissfully sinking into their kisses – until a burning smell from the stove made her pull back with a gasp.

“Oh, the food!”

She jumped off the counter and turned off the stove, but it was already too late – the sauce was ruined. She looked at it in dismay.

“Damn,” she said, “we’ve been cooking together for almost six months now, and we never burned anything, and now the moment we get together...”

But he was grinning broadly.

“Well,” he said. “That just shows that we have more interesting things to occupy us now than food.”

They looked at each other, then they burst out laughing. For a long time, Raquel couldn’t stop, all the tension of the day draining out of her until she had to wipe away tears. When the laughter finally subsided, she went to him and hugged him tight, and he wrapped his arms around her in return.

“Oh,” she whispered. “What a day.”

She could feel him nod.

“Yes. The past twenty-four hours were… quite something.”

“I suppose we should start over on dinner,” she sighed. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to cook, I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to… do anything. I just want to hold you.”

“Me too,” he murmured.

They just held each other quietly for a while. Then he bent his head.

“Can I sleep next to you again tonight?” he whispered.

“Yes please,” she said, hugging him tighter. She couldn’t imagine being apart from him anymore.

“Then I propose that we make something quick for dinner,” he said, “and then go to bed, so I can hold you, and we can talk.”

She looked up at him.

“Just talk?” she smiled.

“Well,” he said, smiling too. “I may want to kiss you a little more.”

She brushed her lips against his.

“Just a little?”

“Alright,” he whispered, “I want to kiss you a lot. A _lot_ , a lot. All night, in fact. How does that sound to you?”

“Perfect,” she sighed happily, leaning in for a proper kiss. “Absolutely perfect.”

As they started over on their meal, both of them still smiling, Raquel realized that it was finally sinking in for her – they were really together now. It was really happening. She suddenly felt as if a heavy weight had fallen off her shoulders. For so many weeks now, she’d had to struggle against her feelings, fighting them, suppressing them, and it had been so exhausting. Last night and this morning had been wonderful because she’d finally been able to give in, but it had felt like they were on borrowed time. Now, she could finally relax into it without any reservations or restraints, without having anything left to worry about. She felt like she had been keeping her feelings for him in the dark, where they couldn’t grow properly – but now, there was nothing but bright, dazzling light, and as she looked at him, working beside her at the counter, she could feel things branch and bloom inside of her. Her happiness was a warm, golden glow in her chest, that lasted all through dinner and kisses in bed, until she fell asleep in his arms. Today, they had truly found their way to each other. Today, their life together had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now I can tell you more: the next chapter will be about their first time. This will be a Big Thing for Raquel specifically, so I really want to take my time and get it right. I'm sorry you'll have to wait for it, but it will be extra long! :) Again, I'm really sorry about needing a break, I wish it wasn't necessary but I just can't help it. Thank you again for understanding! 💗


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 😘 Thank you so much for your patience over the past two weeks! I hope you'll think today's chapter is worth the wait 😊 I've been able to catch up on writing, so I'm happy to announce that I'll be resuming my regular posting schedule of Wednesdays and Sundays 😊
> 
> This chapter turned out much longer than usual 😅 It's 11k words, so plan your reading accordingly 😄
> 
> A big thank you to Loreak, notprincehamlet and Bucanek for reading the chapter in advance and sharing their thoughts! 💗
> 
> And the biggest thank you to thegirloverseas! Thank you for supporting me through the writing of this chapter, through all my complaining 😅 This chapter was such a struggle for me, and you were always so supportive and encouraging and helpful. You're the best 💗💗💗
> 
> I really, really hope you'll all enjoy this one! 😊💗

For all of his forty years, Sergio had tended to his life meticulously, making it as steady and uneventful and structured as he could manage: everything in its place; every future event planned down to the smallest detail. Calm. Orderly. Predictable. Yet he could never have predicted the events of the past six months, no matter how hard he’d tried. He could never have predicted how _she_ would enter his quiet and ordered life, like a song in the silence, and change it completely. And he certainly could never have predicted that here, in this tiny house by the sea, while hiding from the most dangerous man in the country, he would live the happiest days of his life.

Because there was no doubt about it whatsoever: these _were_ the happiest days of his life. Living with Raquel – really _with_ her, the way they were now – was so different from anything he’d ever known before that there was simply no comparison. Every aspect of their tender new relationship was a marvel to him; everything about it filled him with wonder. He went through his days in a perpetual state of dizzying amazement, barely able to believe that such happiness could be his: that he could wake up every morning and see her face; that he could fall asleep every night with her hand in his; that she settled herself against his chest in the most trusting way, and that he could hold her, hold her, hold her. The connection they had been building for months now felt fully realized, and he was experiencing it with a fullness he could never have expected: the unbelievable closeness he felt with her; the warm intimacy they shared; a bond that felt steady and true and unbreakable.

This was a whole new way of being for him – the distinct feeling of ‘I’ turning into ‘you and I’ – and it had a very clear starting point in his mind. The first kiss they had shared had been a revelation to him – he’d known immediately that nothing could ever be the same again. She made him feel things he’d simply never felt before: a whole host of emotions with unimagined shades and textures, each one a different, vibrant hue. Her kisses sparked a warmth and joy in him that he’d been incapable of imagining – her touches were a delicate kind of magic that enchanted him completely. When he held her in his arms, he was overcome by a deep longing to always keep her close, to never be apart from her again. She softened his entire world.

For a few days, they decided to take a break from working on the case, and focus only on each other. They spent hours and hours in bed: lying close together in the evenings, sharing soft kisses – unwilling to leave the bed in the mornings, cuddling close in the warm cocoon they’d created. Once, they even went to bed in the middle of the afternoon, just because they felt like holding each other – Raquel had fallen asleep with her head on his chest, and he hadn’t moved for an hour, just holding her and looking at her sleeping face, feeling a happiness that lifted him up and filled him completely, brighter than the spring sunshine outside.

When they did manage to get out of bed, they spent a lot of time out on the beach, walking hand in hand beside the waves, or spending hours kissing, leaning against the cliffside. Then there were long talks over breakfast and dinner, in which they slowly explored how they fit together in this new way, revealing dreams and hopes and expectations, sharing more of themselves than they ever had before. It all felt like a dream to Sergio, an experience outside of reality somehow, and he surrendered to it – gladly and whole-heartedly, he surrendered to _her._

…

Raquel couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy. She’d been in love before, but never like this – with such a strong, steady certainty that they were right for each other; that they belonged together; that, at forty, she had found the love of her life. The end of her marriage had lifted a weight off of her shoulders and made room for a deep happiness that was more whole and less complicated than anything she had felt in years. She still had the occasional nightmare, but waking up in Sergio’s arms always made things better. When the nasty little voice sounded in the back of her mind, telling her that he didn’t _really_ love her, one look from him was enough to make her doubts disappear. And though she still worried sometimes that this was too good to be true – that it couldn’t last – he always managed to kiss away her fears. He was sweeter to her than ever, and with every soft kiss, with every careful touch, with every quiet conversation, she felt herself move further away from the pain of her past, and into a world that was gentler and kinder than anything she’d ever known.

She allowed herself time. Time to get used to him, time to get to know him in this new way. There had been such a drastic shift in what they were to each other – from thinking they could never be together to planning the rest of their lives with one another – and they had to find a new balance, a new way of being. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard. They fit together so effortlessly, six months of sharing a space having attuned them to each other almost perfectly. Before, she had been so afraid of opening her heart again, but he made it so easy: he was always loving, always openly affectionate, never making her doubt that he was feeling the exact same things for her that she felt for him. He made her feel that her heart was safe with him.

She had been afraid of physical intimacy as well, but he gave her all the time she needed. Over and over again, he surprised her with how considerate he was, how careful he was not to push her boundaries. They had agreed to take things slowly, but every experience she’d ever had with men had led her to expect that he would still try to do the things that men did to try and nudge things along in ‘subtle’ ways – kissing her neck to try to get her in the mood; letting his hands wander; pressing himself against her to show that he wanted her. Yet he did none of those things. When he kissed her, it seemed to be for the simple pleasure of kissing her, rather than to try and initiate something more. When he held her, he seemed perfectly content just to hold her close. When they were in bed together, she never felt that he expected something to happen. The men in her past had always made her feel like they were mostly interested in one thing, but Sergio made it so, so clear that he loved being with her even without that. She couldn’t even begin to tell him how much that meant to her. For the first time, she felt loved entirely for who she _was_ , rather than for what she had to offer.

He was giving her space to get used to the idea of physical closeness again, and as the days progressed, she gradually felt her defenses disappear, along with most of her fears and worries. She slowly let herself get comfortable with his body, familiarizing herself with the shape and feel of him as she held him, as she ran her hands over his arms, his shoulders, his chest. He was taller and stronger than she was, but he never made her feel the least bit threatened – he was always careful with her, always making sure she was comfortable. When he touched her, it always felt right, and she soon came to love his hands in her hair, his arms around her waist, his fingers stroking her arm or her back. Slowly but surely, she felt herself attune to him physically as well, and she started feeling ready for a deeper intimacy.

…

Spring came early to this part of Spain. Halfway through March, when they’d been together for about two weeks, there was a sudden streak of lovely weather – the sky a delicate, pale shade of blue, the air balmy, the wind carrying the smell of growing things. They enjoyed the nice weather to the fullest, spending even more time out on the beach than usual. In the evenings, however, it still got very chilly.

“Let’s go inside,” Sergio said one day, noticing how Raquel was shivering even after he’d given her his coat.

She sighed.

“Yes, I suppose we’d better,” she said. “I wish we didn’t have to, though, it’s so nice to be outside. If only it didn’t get so cold after the sun goes down.”

He gave her a considering look, but she didn’t really think more of it as they ascended the stairs to the house – after all, as long as they were together, it didn’t really matter to her where they spent their time. The next day after dinner, however, he told her to wait inside while he went out again into the gathering twilight. She waited curiously for about half an hour, then she got a text from him.

<<Come down to the beach. Bring a sweater.>>

Even more curious now, she put on an extra sweater and her jacket, then used the light on her phone to descend the stairs on the side of the cliff in the near darkness. When she got down to the sand, she looked up to see Sergio waiting for her next to a brightly burning fire, lit close to the wall of the cliff, out of the reach of the waves and the chilly wind.

She went to him with a broad smile and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her waist in return.

“This is a nice surprise,” she said. “Where did you get the wood?”

“It’s driftwood,” he said. “From along the beach. I didn’t find too much, but it should still be enough to stay outside for a while. I hope you won’t get too cold.”

She leaned into him, smiling.

“Maybe you’ll have to keep me warm.”

He tightened his arms around her waist, his eyes warm.

“Very, _very_ happily,” he murmured.

He bent his head and kissed her deeply, and she twined her hands into his hair as she kissed him back with enthusiasm. Oh, no matter how often he kissed her every day – and it was _often_ – she could never get enough of him. After every kiss, she wanted another, and another, and another. How she loved to lean against him, to have his arms around her, to feel his lips on hers. Often when they were doing other things – cooking, playing chess, taking a walk – they ended up kissing instead, the food or the chess pieces forgotten as they got lost in each other. She supposed they really were too old to act like this, but she really couldn’t care less – she was enjoying every second of it.

When he kissed her the way he was kissing her now – deeply, thoroughly – it never failed to affect her, and when he pulled back, he left her a little breathless, and feeling quite warm indeed.

“Shall we sit down?” he murmured.

She nodded, and regretfully let him go.

He’d brought two blankets, and he spread one out on the sand for them to sit upon. They sat down close together in front of the fire, and he pulled the second blanket around them. When he put his arm around her shoulders, she settled herself against him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Oh, this is so nice”, she sighed happily.

“Not too cold?” he asked.

She tilted her face up and nuzzled his cheek.

“Not at all. You’re nice and warm.”

He smiled at her and pulled her a little closer.

“Then you’d better stay close to me.”

“Yes, I suppose I should,” she murmured, lifting a hand to draw his head down for another kiss.

The fire crackled cozily, the salt in the wood turning the flames blue and orange and green, creating a circle of light and warmth for them on the dark beach. They just sat quietly for a while, listening to the soft swishing of the waves on the sand and watching the stars appear high above them, seeming brighter than usual in the darkness of a moonless night.

“Do you remember what you said the last time we watched the stars?” he asked her quietly. “About how we’re too close to the events in our lives to see the pattern?”

“Yes,” she said. “I remember.”

“That was so true,” he said. “Back then, I was so sure we could never be together… but I simply couldn’t see the pattern that was leading me to you. Raquel, I… I never could have dreamed something this wonderful.”

His words were making her feel so warm. She lifted her face and kissed his cheek.

“I never could have predicted this either.”

A memory suddenly surfaced, and she smiled.

“Do you remember,” she said, “when we first met, right at the start? How we didn’t even talk to each other?”

He smiled too.

“Right.”

She chuckled quietly.

“If anyone had told me then that we would end up here, I never would have believed it. Not in a million years.”

“Me neither,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you’d ever even tolerate my company.”

She pressed her face against his shirt and gave an embarrassed laugh.

“I was so awful to you at first,” she said, feeling herself go red. “Remember when you accidentally touched me and I slammed you against the wall?”

“Oh, I remember,” he said, but he was smiling. “That was a good warning never to mess with you.”

“I’m so sorry about the way I treated you in the beginning,” she said contritely. “I never even gave you a chance.”

He looked down at her, and his eyes were kind.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I understand. You were in such an awful situation, and you didn’t know me at all. Of course you were wary of me.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she said. “You know, once we actually started talking, I liked you immediately. Probably more than I should have.” She laughed. “ _Definitely_ more than I should have.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I immediately liked you too.”

She thoughtfully stroked his chest.

“Though I don’t think I started falling in love with you until we moved to the mountains,” she said.

“It started earlier for me,” he said. “Though it took me ages to realize it.”

“When _did_ you realize?” she asked him, smiling.

“After we were shot at,” he said promptly. “That was quite the wakeup call.”

He pulled her a little closer, and she hugged him tighter too.

“I can’t believe I almost lost you then,” he said softly. “I… I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

She looked up at him, a tight feeling in her chest.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you either.”

He bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and she raised a hand to twine her fingers into his hair as she kissed him back. They sank into it for a long time, affirming that they hadn’t lost each other, that they were here, safe and together. When they finally broke apart, he kept her very close, leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

“When did you realize you were in love with me?” he asked.

“I think I realized it the same day you did,” she said. “In a way, at least. It took me a few more days before I could admit it to myself.”

“Why?” he asked her softly.

She sighed, staring into the ever-changing colors of the flames.

“Because I was scared,” she whispered. “So, so scared.”

His expression was serious when she looked back up at him.

“Are you still scared?” he asked her quietly.

She looked into his eyes, so steady.

“No,” she said softly. “No, I’m not scared anymore. You make me feel… so safe, Sergio. In every way.”

He lifted a hand and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“I’m so glad,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her softly.

It was so true. In his arms, she felt so sure of things she hadn’t thought she could ever be certain about again. That he would never hurt her. That he would never disregard her boundaries. That he loved her. She let herself fall back onto the blanket and pulled him down on top of her. She knew only a short while ago this would have made her feel frightened and overwhelmed, but when he carefully lowered himself on top of her now, it only felt sweet and wonderful and intimate. She loved his arms around her, and she loved to feel his weight on her, his body strong and warm and solid, anchoring her in the present moment. When he kissed her again, undemandingly but deeply, she felt a warmth begin to steal through her that made her thoughts turn to other things – things they couldn’t do on the beach. Having him on top of her like this made her realize how comfortable she felt with him, and how she trusted him completely. She’d been giving herself time, and so had he, but now she didn’t think she needed to wait any longer.

“Sergio,” she whispered. “I… I think I’m ready.”

His eyes were very soft as he looked at her.

“Are you sure?” he murmured. “We can wait a little longer, I don’t mind.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sure. I’m ready for… for something more.”

“How much more?” he asked her carefully.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, feeling a little nervous, a little breathless, but certain all the same. “I think I’d just like to… try and see how it feels.”

“Alright,” he said, his eyes very earnest. “Let’s try and see.”

The kiss he gave her was warm and soft, and it made her feel even more certain that this was what she wanted. He was so sweet, and she loved him so much, and she knew he would be careful with her. He kissed her again, then he got up, holding out his hand to help her up too. The fire was burning low by now, and they put some sand on it to extinguish it entirely, then they picked up the blankets and started walking towards the stairs hand in hand.

Raquel’s heart was beating rather fast. She wasn’t sure how she would react to everything once they started, but she was sure that she was ready to try. She wasn’t expecting much – it had been so long since she’d last enjoyed having sex. Over the last couple of years of her marriage, from the moment that he had started hurting her, her desire had gradually died down until there was nothing left of it. She had still had sex with him, for many reasons – to avoid or deflect an argument; to make up after a fight; or simply because he wanted it – but pleasure had rarely factored into it anymore for her. After a while, she had stopped feeling anything at all. She expected things to be different with Sergio – after all, she felt so differently about him – but mostly on an emotional level. Physically, she had stopped expecting… anything, really.

Yet as they entered the house and she looked at him, she realized that, even though she wasn’t really expecting much physical enjoyment, she still wanted to do it. It was the next step in their relationship, and she loved the thought that it would bring them even closer. But more than anything: she loved him, and she wanted to express that in every way.

It was nice and warm inside the house. They took off their coats and sweaters, then she took his hand and pulled him with her to the bedroom. Over the past two weeks, they’d gotten into the habit of lighting candles in the evening, and it felt especially nice tonight, creating a warm and golden atmosphere.

She lay down on the bed and he joined her and took her in his arms, lying close to her and kissing her softly.

“Are you still sure?” he asked her.

She looked into his eyes, feeling the depth of the bond between them. She shifted a little closer to him, noting how right it felt.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

Sergio looked down at her, and there was such a soft feeling in his chest. It meant so much to him that she trusted him like this. His mind went back to the beginning, several months ago, when even the slightest touch had been too much for her, and he realized what a momentous thing this must be for her.

“We can stop at any time,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He looked into her eyes, trying to see if there was even the slightest trace of hesitation on her part, but she was looking back at him with an open, trusting gaze.

“Will you tell me if I do anything that doesn’t feel right?”

“I will,” she nodded.

He hesitated, then decided that it would be best to talk about this beforehand.

“Is there anything you don’t like?” he asked her tentatively. “Or… or any places where you don’t want to be touched?”

The last thing he wanted was to upset her, to do something – anything – that made her uncomfortable. She thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t think so,” she finally said, but then she added: “Just… just don’t be too rough.”

He felt so sad that she thought it was necessary to ask him that. He hated to think what that must mean about her past experiences, and he wished with all his might that he could somehow undo those things, that he could erase them from her past. But all he could do was to make sure that she was comfortable now, to make sure that she felt safe and loved, and he would try his hardest to make that happen.

“Of course not,” he whispered. “Of course.”

He bent his head and kissed her so softly, feeling such a warm, tender glow in his chest when she settled herself more closely against him. He couldn’t imagine how much trust this had to be taking on her part, and he resolved so earnestly to be worthy of it.

“Is there anything else I should know?” he asked her as he pulled back.

She hesitated, seeming unsure about whether or not to tell him something.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable with,” he said quickly.

She shook her head and sighed.

“No, I… I think it would probably be best if you knew. It’s just… very personal, and a little embarrassing.”

“Raquel,” he said softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but please… please don’t feel embarrassed.”

She gave him a grateful look, then she looked down, and he waited patiently as she searched for the right words.

“You see,” she finally said, “ever since… since things got really bad with my ex-husband, I haven’t been able to… to climax. At all. It’s been… over two years.”

She glanced up to see his reaction, and he gave her a soft look.

“I understand,” he said, and she seemed encouraged to go on.

“I thought it would change again after I left him,” she continued, “but it just… hasn’t come back yet. I tried a few times on my own, but it was just so frustrating that I… I stopped trying.”

“I understand,” he repeated softly.

“I just wanted to tell you now,” she said. “So you know you don’t have to take it personally later when it… when it doesn’t happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t take it personally,” he assured her. “Please don’t worry about that. Please don’t worry about any of it. That’s not the most important thing, right?”

She looked up and smiled, seeming relieved.

“Right. Thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said earnestly.

She drew his head down, and for several moments they sank into a soft, slow kiss. When they broke apart again, she gave him a questioning look.

“Is there anything about you I need to know?”

He hesitated. There was one thing he’d been worried about, because he wasn’t sure how she’d react, but she’d have to see it sooner or later. He sighed and sat up.

“There’s something I should probably show you. Is it… is it alright if I take off my shirt?”

She seemed confused as she sat up too, but she nodded.

“Of course.”

She looked at him uncomprehendingly as he started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, the fabric fell open, revealing a number of red stripes in the middle of his chest – and then he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and she raised a hand to her mouth. His left arm and side were a mass of scars: vivid lines crisscrossing all over the skin, creating a big, red spider’s web over his shoulder and ribs.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh no.”

He looked down and grimaced.

“I know,” he said. “It looks awful.”

He reached for his shirt again, but she stopped his hand.

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s okay. I just… I had no idea you were hurt so badly.”

He remembered the moment that car had hit him, crashing into the driver’s side, shards of glass and scraps of metal shredding his skin, his ribs breaking.

“Yes,” he nodded soberly. “It was… quite bad.”

There was nothing but compassion and acceptance in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“Can I touch you?” she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, then he nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

She shifted closer to him, then she lifted a careful hand and started tracing her fingers over the scars. Her expression was so soft, and her touch so tender, that it made something ache in his chest. Oh, he loved her so much.

She trailed her fingers over his shoulder, then brushed the small round scar right above his bicep.

“Is this where they shot you?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, the shattering of the window and the searing pain of the bullet another vivid memory. But then she bent closer to him, and the remembered pain vanished as she pressed a soft kiss to his skin. How did she do that? How did she always manage to make everything better? He’d been nervous about showing her this, but he should have known that she wouldn’t shy away from him, that she would be as kind and wonderful as she always was. She started covering his entire shoulder with kisses, and he closed his eyes at the sudden rush of feeling he experienced.

“Raquel,” he whispered, and when she looked up, he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, her eyes warm and steady.

She gently pulled him down into the pillows with her, and it was the most natural thing in the world to take her in his arms and kiss her. She seemed relaxed and at ease with him as her fingers softly stroked his shoulders and his back, sending small shivers of delight down his spine. How he loved to feel her hands on his skin. Whenever she touched him, she made something happen that used to happen to him so rarely: she brought him fully into the present moment – and she did it with such ease. Just one stroke of her fingers, just one brush of her lips against his was enough to bring him out of his head and into his body, and suddenly he experienced everything so much more fully. Her touch pulled him wholly into a world he usually only felt halfway inside of. He was so grateful that she had this effect on him – it allowed him to enjoy every moment he had with her to the fullest.

Raquel shifted a little closer to him and sighed happily against his lips. Feeling his skin under her hands was such a lovely sensation, and she savored it as she allowed her fingers to run over the muscles of his shoulders and back. She loved to touch him like this – one less layer between them, and the increased intimacy that came with it. It felt so right that it made her long for more: more kisses, more touches, more intimacy. Her fingers brushed over the ridges of his scars, and there was such a soft feeling for him inside her chest. He had been vulnerable with her, and she felt ready to be vulnerable with him too, in the deep, unique way that came from opening yourself up completely to another person. More than anything, she wanted to be close to him.

He pressed another soft kiss to her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, letting herself relax against his chest. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, but even now, when they’d agreed on going further, he didn’t rush things – for a long time, he merely kissed her: long, deep kisses, exploring her slowly as if he had never kissed her before. She tangled her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, blissfully sinking into the sensations, enjoying the way he was taking his time. She felt so safe in his arms, and her body responded to his nearness and his kisses the way it always did, making her feel warm and a little breathless. She wasn’t expecting more than that. She hadn’t felt more than that in years.

But then he started trailing kisses along the line of her jaw, and when he began to kiss the side of her neck, she gasped softly.

“Is that alright?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she breathed, tilting her head invitingly. “Do that again.”

He kissed her neck again, his mouth warm against the sensitive skin, and she sighed at how good it felt. To her surprise, she felt things begin to stir deep inside her… a soft pulling sensation… a warm tingling in her lower belly… and she felt herself melt against him.

“Oh,” she murmured. “That feels really nice.”

He took her cue and continued, and suddenly she felt the first whisper of a feeling that had lain dormant for so long that she had almost forgotten about it: a sweet, intangible desire, tender and delicate and lovely. It surprised her so much to feel it again – she hadn’t been sure that she ever would – but oh, how she’d missed it, and how gladly she welcomed it back. He kept kissing her, and she gave herself over to the sensations he was evoking in her body until the only thought in her mind was that she wanted more of this. So much more. When he moved his kisses down her neck to her collarbone, she was ready for his next question.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Yes,” she whispered. All she knew was that she wanted his kisses to continue.

He started undoing the buttons, slowly, unhurriedly, pressing a kiss to every inch of skin that was exposed, and then over the fabric of the top she was wearing underneath, between her breasts and down her stomach, and she felt her heart beat a little faster. She sat up, and he pushed the shirt off of one shoulder and kissed her there, trailing kisses back up to her neck, making her sigh again in delight. She shrugged out of the shirt entirely and pushed it off the bed, and he took her hand and kissed her palm, then he brushed his lips over her wrist, the underside of her arm, the sensitive crook of her elbow.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured. “Oh, I love kissing you.”

She loved it too – she loved how sweet he was, how tenderly he kissed her, how loved he was making her feel. It made her feel brave enough to take the hem of her top and pull it over her head. She hesitated for a moment, then took off her pants too before lying down again in just her underwear.

He was looking at her with soft eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

For a moment, she felt a little too vulnerable, a little too exposed, but then he shifted closer to her and took her in his arms, and she felt safe again. For several long moments, he just kissed her softly, allowing her time to adjust again, to get comfortable with showing herself to him like this. After a while, he pulled back slightly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her softly.

She looked up at him, and her heart was so full as she stroked his cheek.

“Good,” she whispered. “Happy. And so in love with you.”

He smiled and kissed her again.

“What a lucky coincidence,” he said. “I’m so in love with you too.”

She pulled him in for a deeper kiss, then she pressed herself a little closer to him, signaling that she was ready for more.

“Can I touch you?” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes,” she said, longing to feel his hands on her skin.

He started stroking her, slowly, gently, and she felt things begin to shift inside of her as he woke up her body from a long, quiet slumber. His fingers trailing down her sides made her shiver, and when he moved his hand over her hip to stroke her thigh, she felt that sweet desire again, stronger than before. He made her feel like she was experiencing her own personal spring – her skin coming alive under his hands in a way that she hadn’t felt in so long – her desire for him blossoming with each touch, feeling impossibly fresh and new. He was making her feel things she had almost forgotten about – wonderful things that stirred a warm, deep longing inside of her.

Foreplay with her ex-husband had always been minimal, and it had mostly served for him to claim ownership of her body: his hands everywhere, pushing her down, often leaving red marks wherever he touched her. Sergio couldn’t be more different, and she loved that so much – he was so careful with her, his touches so warm and gentle as he slowly moved his hands down her body, entirely focused on _her._ She had forgotten the joy these moments could contain – the joy of taking the time to explore each other, discovering so many delights along the way. The joy of waiting, of letting desire build gradually. The joy of just being together like this, of sharing the experience. She slowly touched him in return, letting her hands move over his back, his shoulders, his chest, and then down his stomach.

“Will you take off your pants?” she asked him, wanting to feel closer to him.

He nodded and took them off, then he came to lie close to her again, both only wearing their underwear now. She shifted against him, settling herself against his chest, entwining her legs with his as she kissed him. Oh, it felt so lovely to lie skin to skin with him like this, to feel his warmth and his hands lightly stroking her back, making her shiver again.

“This is so nice,” he whispered, echoing her thoughts.

“Yes,” she sighed happily. “It is.”

“Do you just want to stay like this?” he said quietly, stroking her shoulder. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

Oh, she loved him so much. They were both undressed, she could feel him hard against her hip, and still he wasn’t expecting anything of her, still he wasn’t asking her for anything other than what she wanted to give. He made it so clear that she was in control of the situation, in a way that she hadn’t ever been in her marriage, and it made her feel so deeply, wonderfully safe. The absolute knowledge that one word, one touch from her would be enough to make him stop immediately made her want to continue more than anything.

“No,” she said, stroking the back of his neck. “I don’t want to stop.”

She twined her fingers into his hair and kissed him deeply, and he pulled her closer as he kissed her back, making things stir even more inside of her. When he softly bit her bottom lip, she gasped at the sudden stab of desire that shot through her, and she knew she wanted more from him.

His hand was on her hip, and she took it and moved it up to her bra. He kissed her again as he carefully cupped her breast and ran his thumb over her nipple, and she sighed against his lips as she felt it harden. Then he gently squeezed it and she gasped again as another stab of desire lit a little flame inside her lower belly.

“Is that alright?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said immediately, eager for him to do it again. “Yes, very much.”

He squeezed again, and she felt a hot, bright tingle between her legs, making her long for more, more of what he was giving her. She pulled back from him and sat up, and he sat up too with a worried look.

“Too much?”

“No,” she said, leaning in for a reassuring kiss. “I just want to take off my bra.”

His eyes lit up.

“Can I?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

She turned so her back was to him. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he moved slowly again – instead of undoing the clasp immediately, he brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. She hummed with contentment as she gave herself over to his kisses again for a while. Then he unhooked her bra and slid the straps off her shoulders, and she felt herself shiver as he trailed little kisses down her spine. Oh, how she loved that he was taking his time, that he wanted to explore her body like this – sensuously, slowly – making her feel that he was truly enjoying the process, instead of wanting to get to a specific goal.

She let herself fall back into the pillows and again he just kissed her for a while, his hand caressing her stomach, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin and little shivers to trickle down her spine. Then he started pressing kisses to her throat, down her chest, to her breasts, and she felt a tingle of anticipation in her stomach.

“Yes?” he said.

“Yes,” she replied, and the next moment he closed his warm mouth around her nipple and sucked. She gasped at the unexpected intensity of the sensation and twined her fingers into his hair, keeping him where he was.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, that feels… A little more…”

He obliged her, and the feeling took her breath away. Oh, she had forgotten how good this could feel, how many layers there were to this sensation – the hot feeling of his mouth on her skin; a deep, insistent pull that made her gasp; a sharp tingling between her legs. He switched to her other nipple and a little moan escaped from her lips as the feeling shot right through her and the tingling increased. When he sucked a little harder, the feeling became so intense that it overwhelmed her, and she pushed his head away, breathing hard. She hadn’t been expecting her body to react this strongly at all, and it flustered her – she reached for him and he came up to hold her, his arms warm and comforting around her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shifting closer to his warmth. “Yes, just stay close to me for a bit.”

“Of course,” he murmured.

When he bent his head to kiss her, she sighed and relaxed again, and let herself get lost in his kisses. He kissed her softly, tenderly, until she felt entirely comfortable again. She told herself she shouldn’t be so surprised by the way her body was reacting to him – after all, she felt so strongly about him, and she was so deeply attracted to him, and the fact that he was so careful with her, so gentle, was making him even more attractive. She twined her fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss, and he took her cue and let his hand wander down over her body, at first stroking her arm, then her side, then her stomach, to then move up to cup a breast again. She made a soft sound of encouragement, and he ran his thumb over her nipple, over and over again until she was breathing fast, her hips beginning to move of their own accord as the tingle between her legs returned. When it turned into a soft ache, she started imagining what it would feel like if he touched her there.

Reading the signs of her body, he slowly moved his hand down over her stomach, to stop at the edge of her underwear.

“Can I?” he asked.

She hesitated for one moment – just because it was a big step – then she whispered a soft ‘yes’. He’d noticed her hesitation, though, and he pulled back his hand, giving her an attentive look.

“Raquel…” he said softly, “do you really want this, or are you just letting me?”

She smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. How she loved that he was so considerate, that he was making sure she was completely on board.

“I want this,” she whispered. “I do. It’s… it’s very intense, but I think I’m ready.”

“Are you enjoying it?” he asked her softly.

“Yes,” she smiled, shifting closer to him. “It’s been so lovely. You’re making me feel… so many things.”

“In a good way?”

“Yes,” she repeated, stroking his cheek. “Yes, in a wonderful way. You’re wonderful. Thank you for being so careful with me.”

He shook his head with a soft look.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Still,” she said. “You’re so sweet for being so patient.”

He gave her a warm smile.

“My love,” he said, “it doesn’t feel at all like I’m being patient. I love this so much, all of it. I love that we’re taking our time. For such a long time, I… I thought that I’d never get to be with you. So now I just love… every moment.”

He bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“I can’t even believe how lucky I am.”

She stroked the back of his neck as she kissed him back, a warm glow in her chest. She felt so lucky too to be able to share this experience with him. She’d thought it might be difficult for her, but he was making it so easy. He was so exactly what she needed. His mouth was still on hers when she took his hand and moved it down to her underwear. 

She opened her legs to give him access, but he didn’t immediately touch her. Instead, he started stroking the inside of her thighs as he kept kissing her softly. His fingers kept moving up and down, always stopping right before he reached her, making a deep, vibrant thrum of desire start up in her lower belly that intensified with every stroke of his fingers until she was absolutely aching to feel him there.

“Sergio,” she whispered against his lips, breathless. “Touch me. Please.”

He pressed another kiss to her lips, then he let his fingers brush against her, making her draw in a breath as her desire for him flared.

“Yes,” she encouraged him, and he started stroking her through her underwear, drawing a soft whimper from her lips. She just couldn’t understand how her body was reacting so strongly to his gentle caresses, how she was trembling with desire when he was barely touching her. She just knew she wanted more, more, more.

It was clear by now that he was letting her set the pace – that he wouldn’t do anything until she indicated in some way that she was ready for it. So she took his hand again and moved it upwards to the edge of her underwear. He gave her a warm smile and bent his head to kiss her again as he slipped his fingers into her underwear and started exploring her. His movements were slow and gentle, but they were still enough to make her tingle, to make her ache, and she let out a soft sigh as she enjoyed the feelings he was evoking. Then his fingers brushed past a particular spot, and she drew in a sharp breath.

“Here?” he asked, returning to it, and she nodded eagerly.

“Yes.”

The next moment, he started moving his fingers up and down, and she clutched at him.

“Oh!”

“Like this?” he murmured in her ear, and she nodded, gasping.

“Yes! Yes, just like that.”

As he continued, her body reacted to him in an instinctive way that surprised her, welcoming his touch as if they’d done this a hundred times before. It felt so good to experience this with him, so natural in every way, and she let herself relax and savor the sensations, her breathing quickening, her hips moving rhythmically, her back arching. Oh, the things he was making her feel… She turned her face to press it against his chest and moaned softly against his skin.

Suddenly he withdrew his hand, and she looked up at him with a sound of disappointment. He smiled and kissed her.

“I can go on if you want,” he said, giving her a warm look. “I was just wondering… would you like it if… if I went down on you?”

She hesitated – not because she didn’t want it, but because she was afraid of what he might expect.

“Sergio,” she said. “I told you, I don’t think I can… I don’t think I can come…”

“No,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to. That’s not why I want to do it.”

He brushed his lips against hers.

“I just thought you might enjoy it… Would you?”

Oh, the mere thought of his mouth there made her tremble. She felt such a deep, aching longing that there was really no doubt as to the answer to that question.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure I would.”

He smiled, his hand lightly stroking her stomach.

“Then can I?”

She looked into his eyes, so warm and steady. She trusted him so completely.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He kissed her again – a long, soft, lingering kiss that made her melt against him. Then he moved down and took off her underwear with careful hands. She opened herself to him and he came to lie between her legs and looked up at her.

“No pressure,” he said softly. “We’re not doing this to get a result, but just because it feels good. Alright?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Alright.”

“Just let me know when you want me to stop.”

She was absolutely breathless with anticipation as he bent his head, but at first he just pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs, inching his way up tantalizingly slowly until she was trembling for contact. When he finally engaged, his mouth was warm and soft beyond imagining, and she sighed blissfully as he started exploring her. He took his time, moving up and down with slow strokes of his tongue that felt absolutely wonderful. Finally, he moved up to the spot where she wanted him the most, and when he pressed his mouth against her, she threw her head back with a moan.

“Oh! Yes, right there…”

Oh, she couldn’t believe how good that felt, how impossibly, unbelievably _amazing._ She had expected that the general experience would be better with Sergio than it had been for her over the past few years, but she had expected nothing like _this_ , the pleasure he was evoking so vivid and complete, a warm, golden glow between her legs that tingled and sparkled, making her gasp for breath. In the comforting knowledge that he expected nothing from her, she could relax and allow herself to bask in the sensations, her hand in his hair, soft moans escaping her lips.

Gradually, she felt how a tension began to build in her lower belly, growing stronger and stronger with each stroke of his tongue. She felt it fill her up, making her muscles tense, making her back arch off the bed as her breathing became shallow and fast, increasing minute after minute until her entire body was humming with an electric energy that hadn’t been released in such a long time. She was losing herself in the feeling, losing the control she usually maintained over herself, losing her self-awareness, until she was no longer even aware of the sounds she was making, until everything was reduced to the rhythm of his tongue stroking _just_ the right spot and the bright, breathtaking pulse of the energy brimming inside her. She wasn’t thinking anymore; she wasn’t worrying about what could or couldn’t happen – she felt so safe with him, so loved, and when everything became pure feeling she surrendered herself to him completely.

He increased the tempo just a little, and it was enough – she felt herself teeter on the edge for one breathless moment, every muscle taut, her fingers grasping at the sheets – and then the feeling crashed through her with a _shocking_ intensity, making her throw back her head with a cry as wave after wave of hot, golden pleasure rushed through her. The feeling was all-consuming, sweeping her away completely, and she cried out again and again as he kept her going, until her entire body was tingling, until she was gasping, shivering, shaking. Finally, just when she thought she couldn’t bear it anymore, he pulled back, leaving her feeling breathless, stunned and completely overwhelmed.

The next moment he was beside her and carefully gathered her into his arms, and she curled up against his chest, still shaking, her breath coming in sobs. She just hadn’t expected it _at all_ and it had shaken her to her core. She didn’t remember it being like this before – not at all – she couldn’t remember ever being so utterly, _utterly_ undone. She suddenly realized that there were tears on her cheeks, the expression of a powerful, wordless relief that came from somewhere deep inside her – the release of a tension she hadn’t even been aware she was carrying.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh _Sergio._ ”

His nearness was warm and comforting, his voice a soft murmur in her ear.

“Are you okay?”

In response, she shifted even closer to him and pressed her face against his chest. He seemed to understand, because he tightened his arms around her and just held her close, stroking her hair. In the protective circle of his arms, she gradually felt the shaking stop and her breathing slow as she regained her balance. Finally, she heaved a big sigh and relaxed against him.

“Better?” he asked her tentatively.

She looked up into his worried eyes and gave him a soft smile.

“Yes,” she said. “Much better. It was just… a little overwhelming.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, still giving her that worried look. “Maybe I should have stopped when…”

“No,” she said quickly, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek. “No, I’m glad you didn’t. It was… a lot, but… I’m so glad it happened.”

“Really?” he said softly.

“Yes,” she whispered, and she realized that it was true. She felt… she felt freer now, like a barrier had fallen away inside of her, allowing a glowing, primal life force to flow freely again, making her feel more alive than she had felt in years.

He still looked a little apprehensive.

“I just… I didn’t think you would…”

She gave a little chuckle of disbelief.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t think I would either.”

As she looked into his eyes and stroked his cheek, she tried to come to grips with it. How? How had he broken through this barrier when she hadn’t even been able to get through it herself? Then she noticed the way he was looking at her, the way he was holding her so carefully, and as she felt herself soften in response, she began to understand. She could let go with him in a way that she couldn’t by herself – letting down her guard in every way because he made her feel so safe. But most of all, she suddenly realized, the difference was in the way he treated her: so much gentler, and with so much more patience and acceptance than anyone had ever treated her before – including herself. For such a long time now, she had felt that she didn’t deserve that kind of kindness from anyone – least of all herself – but now, for the first time in years, he was making her feel like she was worthy of love and acceptance in an unconditional way, and it had swept away a very deep resistance that she’d been holding on to for too long. Little by little, day by day, he was giving her back the things she’d once lost, and she didn’t know how to thank him for that.

She shifted closer to him and tilted up her face to press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling like she could cry again.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his hand in her hair. “I… I can’t even tell you how much.”

They shared another soft kiss as they held each other close – a kiss that lingered, that they could sink into – soft brushes of lips against lips – slowly, lovingly. As she stroked the back of his neck, she felt how attuned her body was to him now, how comfortable and natural it felt to be naked with him, how she wanted nothing in the world except to lie here with him and share kisses and touches. Then his fingers lightly started stroking her back, and she was vividly reminded of the way he had made her feel just now.

She pulled back a little to look at him.

“You know,” she said softly, “that was amazing.”

His eyes lit up.

“Really?”

She smiled at him.

“Yes, my love, _yes_. I didn’t expect it, but it was… oh, it was _so_ good.”

She shivered slightly as she relived it and pressed herself closer to him.

“You made me feel… oh, you made me feel things I hadn’t felt in _years._ I loved it so much.”

He looked so pleased and relieved.

“I’m so glad,” he said. “I’m so happy you liked it.”

“I really did,” she murmured, pulling his head down. “So much.”

She kissed him again, and he pulled her a little closer, their bodies connecting full-length as she entwined her legs with his. Her fingers were in his hair as she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, slow and sensual, then she let her hands wander down to stroke his shoulders, his back, his chest. He sighed softly.

“Oh, I love it when you touch me, Raquel.”

She was loving it too – the warmth of his skin under her hands, the slope of his shoulders and back, the quiet strength of him. She didn’t really have the words to tell him how he was making her feel, how much he meant to her, but she felt that she could express it, just a little, by touching him like this. She explored him slowly, learning the lines of him, the pattern of his scars, the curve of his muscles. She felt so strongly about him, so deeply, and she wanted to know him – she wanted to know every part of him.

She let her hand drift down from his chest, over his stomach, but when she reached the edge of his underwear, he stopped her.

“Please don’t feel obligated,” he said softly.

“I don’t,” she said, looking up at him. “Really.”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

She smiled at him.

“I know. I just… I would really like to. If you want it too.”

He looked at her intently for a long moment, trying to gauge how she was feeling, but when she looked back at him with a steady, open gaze, she could feel him soften.

“Of course,” he whispered. “Of course I want it too.”

For the first time all night, she could see the longing in his eyes, and she realized that he’d been setting aside his own desire to make sure that she was comfortable, to make sure that she wouldn’t feel pressured. It made her love him even more. She touched the edge of his underwear again.

“Will you take this off?”

He nodded and sat up to take it off, then he lay down next to her again and took her in his arms to kiss her. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back. Then she let her hand drift downwards, making him shiver as she stroked the back of his neck – then over his chest and his stomach, and even further down. He closed his eyes as her fingers brushed against him, and when she carefully started exploring, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“Oh, Raquel…”

She took her time, letting her fingers play over him, slowly becoming familiar with this intimate part of him. It felt so natural to touch him like this, so right that she was getting to know him in every way. She started stroking him more deliberately, and he shuddered at her touch. She marveled at how his desire didn’t feel like a burden to her – it wasn’t something he expected her to gratify, but something they were exploring and enjoying together. He still wasn’t asking anything of her, but rather accepting what she was giving him freely. She knew if she stopped right now, he wouldn’t protest or pressure her in any way, and that felt so liberating.

It only took a few minutes before he gently pulled her hand away.

“Stop,” he whispered, “I don’t want to…”

She wouldn’t have minded, but that was his decision to make. He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, and she shifted until her body was against his. It felt so good to be with him like this; nothing separating them anymore. They sank into slow, loving kisses for a long time, their hands softly caressing each other, and she realized that she had never felt like this with anyone else before – this kind of connection – this kind of deep, wordless intimacy.

Finally, he drew back and looked at her, cupping her face in his hand and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“You’re amazing, Raquel,” he said. “Truly.”

She felt such a rush of emotions as she put her hand on his chest. 

“You are too,” she whispered, “You know, for the longest time, I didn’t think I’d ever want this again. I just couldn’t imagine it. I still can’t imagine it – not with anyone but you. But with you… oh, my love.”

She leaned in to kiss him again, and he twined his fingers into her hair. She pressed herself against him, feeling so acutely that they were a part of each other, and wishing, wishing with all her might that she could be even closer to him – so much closer – as close as she could possibly be.

And suddenly she knew.

“Sergio,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m ready.”

He gave her such an earnest look.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling it in every fiber of her being. “Yes, really.”

He hesitated, looking at her with slight concern.

“Don’t you… don’t you think maybe it’s been enough for tonight? You were so overwhelmed earlier…”

“This won’t be the same,” she said softly. She was so sure about that too. “I was caught completely off-guard earlier, and it was so… _so_ intense. It will be different now.”

“You don’t think it will be too much?”

She shifted even closer to him.

“No,” she said. “Because this time, I’ll be in your arms. This time, you’ll stay close to me. That will make all the difference.”

She put her hand against his cheek and softly pressed her lips against his.

“I want this, Sergio,” she whispered. “I want to be close to you. I want to share this with you.”

She felt him soften.

“I want to share this with you too,” he murmured. “More than anything.”

She kissed him deeply, and as he pulled her closer and ran his hand down her back, she felt her body respond to him again, with delighted shivers and soft tingles. His kisses were making her desire stir again – such a warm and wonderful feeling that became stronger with every kiss, with every touch, until her breathing quickened, until her heart was beating fast. He caressed a nipple with his thumb, making her moan softly against his lips – then he dipped his hand between her legs and stroked the inside of her thighs until she was absolutely aching with longing. Oh, she wanted him – she wanted him so badly – she wanted him in every way. She pressed herself against him to show him that she was ready.

“Now?” he murmured.

“Yes please,” she replied breathlessly.

He nodded and nuzzled her ear.

“Do we need protection?”

She shook her head.

“No, I have an IUD.”

“Alright.”

He kissed her again.

“Do you want to be on top?” he asked her softly when he pulled back. “That way you can decide what happens and when, and how.”

She considered this. She supposed it made sense, but the idea wasn’t particularly appealing to her right now – the thought of being on top made her feel vulnerable and exposed, and she didn’t think she’d really feel close to him that way. He was offering her control, and she appreciated that, but she suddenly realized that she didn’t need it. She trusted him completely. She also remembered how wonderful it had felt earlier, in front of the fire on the beach, when she’d pulled him down on top of her – the memory filled her with a soft, sweet longing, and she knew she wanted that again.

He was looking at her expectantly, propped up on an elbow, so she shifted closer and gently pulled him down on top of her. 

“I’d really like it this way,” she murmured. “I just… love to feel your weight on me. It makes me feel closer to you.”

He gave her a soft look and shifted carefully, and she opened her legs so he could lie between them, covering her body with his.

“Does that feel alright?” he whispered.

She sighed blissfully and wrapped her arms around him.

“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s perfect.”

There was a unique kind of intimacy that only came with this position, and she loved it – the warmth of it; the feeling of being cared for and protected; the softness that came with surrender. It was exactly what she wanted right now, exactly what she needed. She reached up a hand and stroked his cheek, and he looked down at her, his eyes so warm.

“I love you,” he murmured, then he dipped his head for a soft kiss.

She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment, and she felt so connected to him already. She wasn’t the least bit nervous or apprehensive this time – in his arms, she felt warm and loved and safe, her longing for him a sweet ache that she felt so ready to satisfy. Everything about this felt exactly right. She let her hand slide down his back and over his hips, and he lifted himself slightly so she could touch him and guide him to her.

“Are you ready?” he asked her softly.

“Yes,” she said, feeling a delicious tingle of anticipation. “I’m so, so ready.”

They shared one more tender kiss, and then she drew in a breath and held him tighter as she felt him enter her – smoothly but slowly, giving her time to get used to the sensation.

“Yes?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” she whispered back, her fingers grasping his hair. “Oh, _yes._ ”

He pushed into her more fully, filling her up inch by inch, and all she could do was hold on to him and gasp. She’d been ready, but _oh_ , she hadn’t expected it to be like this – the feeling of it breathtakingly deep and warm and glowing, every added inch evoking new and exquisite sensations, until he filled her up completely and she felt how perfectly, how _perfectly_ they fit together.

He stopped for a moment, buried deep inside her, as they just savored it for a moment: this feeling of total and utter closeness, of being connected to each other in such a profound and meaningful way. Having him inside her felt so good, so wonderful, so deeply and intensely _right._ He kissed her deeply, then she moaned softly against his lips as he started moving inside her.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, that feels… Oh, _Sergio_. Yes. _Yes._ ”

They were so attuned to each other that they easily found a rhythm, their bodies moving together in effortless synchronicity, and it was sweet, utter bliss to feel him fill her up again and again, the joy of it pure and golden and all-encompassing. The world around them fell away – there was no past or future, only this perfect present moment, in which there was only _them,_ whole and shining and truly together _._ For several eternal moments, he was her only reality – his mouth on hers, his arms around her, his body warm and strong on top of hers – and she fully gave herself over to the sensations, letting them wash over her, reveling in the feeling of unutterable fulfillment that came from being with him so completely.

They kept rocking together for a long time, entirely lost in each other, until she could no longer tell where he ended and she began, because they were deeply and fundamentally one. When he finally tensed, she felt fully and wonderfully satisfied, and she held him close and stroked the back of his neck as he shuddered and buried his face in her hair, whispering her name over and over as he came deep inside her.

She nuzzled his ear and kissed his cheek as he recovered, loving the feeling of his weight on her, loving to have him in her arms. Then he raised himself up on his elbows and gave her the softest, most tender kiss.

“Raquel,” he whispered. “That was… that was incredible. That was so amazing.”

She stroked his hair as she kissed him in return.

“Yes,” she whispered back, feeling so warm and cherished, so deeply, _deeply_ happy. “It really was.”

He was looking at her, his eyes soft with wonder.

“Never,” he murmured. “Never, in my entire life… have I felt…”

He stopped, seeming unable to find the words, but she merely nodded and drew his head down for another kiss. She understood – she had felt it too. She was still feeling it.

He carefully shifted off her to lie beside her, and when he opened his arms, she moved into them and curled up against his chest with a happy sigh. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, and there was no more need to talk. What they had was beyond words anyway – a connection that went deeper than anything she’d ever known – something she couldn’t define or label but only experience, with a breathtaking fullness of joy and gratitude. They basked for a long time in the afterglow, just being with each other, sharing slow kisses and soft caresses, enveloped in a warm and tender intimacy. She felt acutely how it wasn’t an intimacy that purely came from sex – there was so much more to it than that. It came from a place of deep love and acceptance, from the joy of shared experiences, from knowing each other completely – and from loving each other more fully because of it.

As they sank into kiss after kiss, she reflected how tonight had exceeded all of her expectations – and by such a wide, wide margin. She could never have dreamed that it would be so wonderful, that he would make her feel so many things that she had thought were lost to her forever, reawakening sleeping desires with such a vivid, unsuspected intensity, making her feel so wonderfully, beautifully _alive._

She had never thought that he would be so much to her. Over the past months, he had been her comfort and her joy, her strength and her safety – and now he was her ecstasy too, her pleasure bright and burgeoning at his fingertips. She felt how he had helped her regain a vital piece of herself today – something so precious, something she should never have lost.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her, his fingers stroking her shoulder.

“What for?”

“For… for everything. For being so patient with me, and so sweet. You made me feel so safe, Sergio. You were so wonderful.”

He gave her the softest look.

“My love,” he said. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that. Tonight has been… so special for me. For such a long time, I thought that I would never touch you. My biggest hope was that I might be able to hold you one day. That… that I got to share _this_ with you…” He shook his head in wonder. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then leaned his forehead against hers.

“Thank you, Raquel. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Always,” she whispered, shifting closer to him. “I will always, always trust you.”

They stayed in bed for the rest of the night, their bodies intertwined, their arms around each other, the thought of separating unthinkable – absurd – impossible. Entirely wrapped up in each other, they held each other close and whispered soft words of love and belonging, of feelings that couldn’t really be captured in words, and the sweet promise of forever.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! First of all: I'm sorry if I haven't answered your comment yet, I've just been drowning in work 🙈 I do hope to be able to answer soon! Please know that I see every comment and they mean so, so much to me! 💗 
> 
> As always, I want to thank Loreak, notprincehamlet and Bucanek for reading the chapter beforehand and for their lovely feedback! 💗
> 
> And the biggest thank you to thegirloverseas, for being the greatest possible beta reader. You're the best 💗
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy today's chapter! 😊 Do share your thoughts with me if you want to 😊💗

One morning, they were having coffee after breakfast in the solarium, sitting bright and warm in the spring sunlight that shone through the windows and turned the sea outside a shimmering shade of turquoise. Raquel was curled up in her chair, holding her mug of coffee with both hands and looking out at the sea with a dreamy expression on her face. She looked so serene, like she was at peace with the world. As far as Sergio could tell, she had been as happy as he had been himself over the past few weeks, and he desperately wanted that happiness to last. They had been living in a warm, intimate bubble that contained just the two of them, and that was filled with nothing but golden sunlight, with soft kisses and walks on the beach, her hand in his. He would give anything for things to stay exactly like this… but he knew they couldn’t go on like this forever.

She turned to him, and he saw the same sad realization reflected in her eyes as the dreaminess left her expression and it turned more sober. It was time to return to reality.

“Shall we?” she said.

They had agreed beforehand that they would start working on the case again today. On the one hand, it was a painful acknowledgement of the situation they were still in and the challenges and dangers they still faced – but on the other hand, he felt more motivated than ever as he stood up and joined her at the table, where she opened her laptop. He’d always felt motivated to work on the case, because progress on the case meant that he came one step closer to freedom. Now, however, that freedom meant so much more – it meant a life with her, a real life… the life she deserved.

He knew she was eager to start that life as well, so for the next few days, they worked harder than they ever had before, only stopping for mealtimes and a short walk on the beach every day. To Sergio’s frustration, however, they made just as little progress as they had over the past few months. This wasn’t the kind of case where a mystery had to be solved – the only thing they needed was to find Ortega, and there were very few clues in the files that might indicate where he could be. At a certain point, they had gone through all the files that were directly connected to Ortega, and they had to move on to the cases that were only _suspected_ to be connected to him, and Sergio was starting to feel increasingly discouraged.

Then, one day, Raquel was clicking through the photographs that were included in one of the files when Sergio suddenly sat bolt upright.

“Wait!” he said. “Go back!”

She clicked back to a picture of a young woman with black hair and large sunglasses, and he stared at it.

“I know her!”

Raquel sharply looked at him.

“You do?”

“Yes! I was planning to recruit her for the operation. She’s an expert on bank notes.”

Raquel quickly maneuvered through the rest of the file, then she tapped the screen.

“It says here that she’s a suspected associate of Ortega’s, but we actually have no information about her at all.”

“I’m sure she’s in the system,” he said. “I know she’s been arrested before.”

“Then her file hasn’t been matched to one of Ortega’s,” she said, then she looked at him. “But if you know who she is…?”

“Her name is Ágata Jiménez,” he said.

She typed it into the search field of the police system, and immediately several files came up.

“Great,” she said, “all the information’s here – convictions, associates, last known address. We just didn’t know she was connected to Ortega.”

She picked up her phone.

“I’ll call Elena, maybe she wants to question her. If she’s an associate of Ortega’s, this woman might know where he is now, or she might be able to find out.”

Elena picked up after the first ring, and Raquel put her on speaker and quickly detailed the situation.

“Alright,” Elena said, after she was done. “I suppose it can’t hurt to send someone to question her. But we’ve questioned dozens of Ortega’s associates over the past months, and they all pretend not to know anything. Why would this woman be any more forthcoming?”

“Good point,” Raquel said thoughtfully. “You’d need to be able to offer her something in return for giving up the information.”

She looked at Sergio, who racked his brain to remember what he could of the information he’d gathered about Jiménez when he was researching possible recruitments for his team.

“She lost her son,” he suddenly remembered. “She left him alone for some reason, and child services took him away.”

“That’s interesting,” Elena said.

“Yes,” Raquel agreed. “You could offer to put in a good word for her at child services. Cooperation with the police shows a willingness to get back on the right track.”

“Exactly,” Elena said. “I’ll send some people to question her tomorrow with this strategy. Thank you both. I’ll keep you posted.”

…

For the next day, Raquel had requested and received permission to go into Madrid to see her mother. She was quite excited over breakfast, and Sergio couldn’t look away from her, loving the way her eyes were shining. He knew that she was close to her mother – they talked on the phone almost every day, after all – and they hadn’t seen each other since the start of the case. After her assignment had officially ended and she had _chosen_ to stay here with him, he’d been feeling a little guilty about keeping her from her family, so he was very glad that she had received permission to go visit them, and she clearly was, too.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to see my mother again,” she sighed. “It’s been so long. I can’t wait to hug her.”

“How long will you be able to stay there?”

“Only a few hours, I’m afraid, since it’s a three-hour drive each way. But we can talk and take a walk, or maybe we can cook something together, like we used to do,” she smiled.

He was happy that she was so happy, and that she would be able to get out of the house for a change. He just wished that he could go with her. When he kissed her goodbye at the door, he remembered saying goodbye to her the last time she’d gone into Madrid – the contrast couldn’t be bigger. She’d been so tense then, so anxious, and he remembered holding her for a comforting hug, whereas now she wrapped her arms around his neck with sparkling eyes and stood up on her toes to kiss him.

“What are you going to do today?” she asked him.

“Miss you,” he said promptly, smiling. “What else?”

She laughed and kissed him again.

“I’ll be back tonight,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “And then I’m sure we can make up for lost time.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling her a little closer. “That sounds _very_ good.”

They sank into a longer, deeper kiss for a few moments, then she pulled back and gave him a more serious look.

“Do be careful today,” she said. “If you see a strange car pull up…”

“I’ll go to the panic room,” he said. “I know the drill.”

“Good. Call me if anything happens.”

“I will.”

They shared one last kiss, then she disengaged from him and opened the door.

“Drive safe,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She walked down the path to her car, where she threw him one more kiss before getting in, and he watched her drive off with a smile.

For the past three weeks, they had spent almost every second of every day together, and now it was very strange not to have her next to him. He felt a little lost as he wandered into the kitchen and cleared away the breakfast dishes. Since he couldn’t leave the house, and he couldn’t work on the case without her, he decided to spend the day reading, and in the early evening he made her favorite dish, so it was waiting for her when she got home.

It was already dark outside when her car drew up, and he went to meet her at the front door with a smile. The moment he saw her get out of the car, however, he knew something was wrong. There was nothing left of the energy and joy with which she’d left that morning – he watched her walk up to the house with her head down, her shoulders hunched. The moment she came through the door, she walked straight into his arms and buried her face against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, worried, as he wrapped his arms around her.

“My mom…” she tried, but she seemed unable to find the words. “She was…”

To his dismay, he realized that she was crying, quiet tears trickling down her cheeks as she held him tightly.

“Oh,” he murmured, holding her close and stroking her hair. “Oh my love.”

He let her cry for a few minutes, then she pulled back and wiped her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was just… so much harder than I thought it would be.”

“Come,” he said gently, gesturing towards the solarium. “Sit down, tell me everything.”

They sat down close together and he kept her hand in his as she gathered herself, then started talking, looking down at the ground.

“You know, I talk to her on the phone almost every day, but somehow I hadn’t… I hadn’t quite realized how much worse she’d gotten. I realized that she seemed confused more and more often, but it… it hadn’t really registered beyond that.”

She took a deep breath, and held on tighter to his hand.

“But when I got to the house, it suddenly became so real. My mother was so happy to see me, and at first it felt like nothing was wrong, but then I went inside and… everything was covered in post-its. Because she keeps forgetting things – even the most basic things, like the fact that my father is dead, or the names of me and my sister. I hadn’t realized that it was so bad. And when I talked to her, her eyes kept drifting away, and she had trouble following the conversation for more than a few minutes, which is how long we usually talk on the phone. It’s happening slowly but she’s… she’s falling apart, and I hadn’t even noticed.”

She wiped away another tear.

“But the worst thing is that I don’t think my sister is taking good care of her. My mother would never openly criticize Laura, but I could tell from the things she told me. Apparently my sister is seeing someone new and she spends most of her time with this new boyfriend. Most of the time, I think mother has to take care of herself, and she’s not really… she’s not really capable of that anymore. The house was a mess. She’d clearly lost weight, so I don’t think she’s eating enough.”

More tears were sliding down her cheeks.

“She shouldn’t live like that,” she whispered. “She needs someone to take proper care of her.”

She glanced up at him, looking so sad.

“I’m so sorry, Sergio, but I… I have to go home. I can’t stay here anymore.”

He felt his stomach sink, but he nodded, squeezing her hand.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course. I understand.”

He steeled himself, trying not to show any of the emotions he was feeling – he couldn’t add to her worries right now.

“Is Inspector González going to send a replacement?” he asked, his tone neutral, hiding how much he hated the thought of having a strange person in the house with him.

She shook her head.

“I haven’t asked her yet. You see…” She drew her phone out of her pocket. “Elena texted me this afternoon, saying that Jiménez had given them an address. Apparently that’s where Ortega is rumored to be these days. They’re going in tomorrow.”

He felt a sudden, fierce surge of hope.

“So… so this might all be over tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she nodded with a slight smile. “That’s what I’m counting on. That way, we can both get out of here together.”

He took both of her hands in his, and she held them tight as they looked at each other.

“I want that more than anything,” he said softly.

She nodded.

“I know. Me too. And I have faith in Elena. If Ortega is there, I’m sure she’ll catch him.”

He held on to her hands, and hoped fervently that she was right.

…

The next day, they were up early, both of them too tense and nervous to sleep any longer. Elena had informed them that the raid would take place first thing in the morning, so they sat at the table and looked at Raquel’s phone lying between them. Neither of them wanted to eat – they just sat waiting, knowing that Elena would call them when it was over, no matter what the outcome. For the first time in his life, Sergio wished that he had a deity to pray to, knowing that that would give him at least some feeling of being able to influence the situation, no matter how little. That would have been better than the total feeling of uselessness he was experiencing now. They sat without talking – they just held hands and shot each other nervous looks every once in a while. It was terrible to think how much depended on that phone call – he wanted this to be over so badly, so he could finally move on with his life.

When the phone finally rang, they both jumped, and Raquel hastened to press the button for the speaker.

“Did you get him?” she asked immediately.

Elena’s voice coming through the speaker was hard with anger.

“No,” she said, and Sergio felt a terrible stab of disappointment as Raquel’s hand tightened in his.

“What happened?” she asked, clearly trying hard to keep her own disappointment out of her voice. “Was it the wrong address?”

“Oh no,” Elena said. “I’m sure this was where he was hiding – there was evidence everywhere – but he’d clearly left in a hurry right before we got there.”

“What?” Raquel said. “How did he know?”

“I think there’s a traitor,” Elena said, cold fury in her voice. “It’s the only explanation – one of my people must be passing Ortega information. I’ve been suspecting it ever since those armed men showed up at your second safe house, and now I’m sure. The problem is that I have no idea who it is, and no way of finding out.”

Raquel was looking at the phone in dismay.

“But that means he’ll always be one step ahead of you.”

“Yes,” Elena said bitterly.

There was a short pause, and then Elena spoke again, sounding rather reluctant now.

“There’s more. I’m afraid I have bad news for you two.”

They shared a worried look.

“What is it?” Raquel asked.

Elena took a deep breath before continuing.

“Jiménez also told us that there have been rumors that Ortega might be going abroad soon. Which means that… this was our last chance to get to him.”

Sergio glanced at Raquel, who was staring at the phone with a look of horror.

“He’s… he’s going abroad?” she said.

“Yes,” Elena said, sounding almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Martín.”

Sergio spoke up, frowning.

“Wait, what does that mean?”

Elena sighed again.

“It means that this case is out of my hands now. The Commissioner will transfer it to Interpol. We’ll keep an eye out for Ortega in case he returns, of course, but from now on, the Spanish police will no longer be working on the case.”

“But it won’t be a priority for Interpol!” Raquel said. “They have so many cases, and most of them drag on forever without being resolved.”

“I know,” Elena said. “And even though Ortega himself might be abroad, the majority of his associates would remain in Spain, and they’ll still be on the look-out for Mr. Martín. I’m afraid… I’m afraid he’ll have to stay in witness protection indefinitely.”

After that, Raquel asked Elena a few more questions, but Sergio wasn’t really listening anymore. _Indefinitely._ He was stuck here _indefinitely,_ any hope that the case would be solved soon evaporated. Years and years of his life gone up in smoke – maybe even all of it. He’d known that there were people who spent their entire lives in the witness protection program, but he’d never even considered that it might happen to _him_ – it had been too unthinkable to even contemplate. But now he was brought face to face with the possibility in a brutal way: he might never be able to lead an ordinary life anymore. Or any life at all, really. He might be stuck in this house forever.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Raquel’s hand on his arm, and he looked up to find that she’d hung up the phone and was looking at him with a pained expression.

“I’m so sorry, Sergio,” she said. “So, so sorry.”

He shook his head, feeling dazed.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Interpol might still find him,” she said, but he could hear in her voice that she didn’t really believe that.

_Indefinitely._ He would have to stay here _indefinitely._ That would have been bad enough under any circumstances, but now… He looked at her.

“What does this mean for us?” he said softly.

The look she gave him was desperately sad.

“You know I want to stay here with you,” she said. “I do. But… but I can’t, I… I have to go home. I have to take care of my mother.”

He nodded, feeling numb.

“I’m so sorry, Sergio,” she said again, and she sounded it. “But I’ve… I’ve already lost so much time with her.” Her voice broke. “I can’t lose any more.”

He tried to pull himself together – he couldn’t make her feel like she had to choose between him and her family. He took her hand and stroked it.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course, my love, I understand.”

She took a deep breath, shaking her head.

“I’ll see if I can arrange something – maybe we can find a different safe house for you, closer to Madrid. That way I could go back and forth more easily, and I could take care of my mother while we could still see each other regularly.”

He had a sudden vivid sense of exactly what life would be like under those circumstances. He would spend his days lonely and bored, just waiting for her to come visit, living off of whatever crumbs she could give him. Then when she did visit, he wouldn’t have anything interesting to say because he wouldn’t be able to leave the house. Over the years, the confinement would take its toll on him, making him bitter and resentful. How long would they be able to keep that up? How long before their relationship turned stale and brittle? How long before he went completely out of his mind? He abruptly got up.

“I… I need some air,” he said.

She nodded, looking so sad.

“I understand.”

He left her sitting at the table as he walked out the door and into the blustery wind of a clouded day. He descended the stairs, then set off along the beach at a brisk pace, his thoughts racing, working through the implications as it suddenly hit him with full force: his life was over. This situation which he had thought would be only temporary had turned out to be permanent, and it changed everything. He thought about the heist, which he would never be able to execute like this – his life’s work, his legacy, his homage to his father – lost. He felt a terrible stab of pain as he remembered how his brother had _died_ so he could execute this plan – and it would all be for nothing now. He felt that he couldn’t let that happen, he felt that there _had_ to be some solution, but he couldn’t think of anything.

And then there was Raquel. He knew she would stand by him, and he loved her so much for it – but what kind of life could he offer her now? Could he really expect of her that she would spend her life with a man who always had to hide – who couldn’t work, who couldn’t take her anywhere, who couldn’t even leave the house? They would never be able to live a normal life – he would be completely dependent on her, and he felt so, _so_ strongly that she deserved better than that, better than the half-life that was all she’d be able to have with him.

On top of that, there was the fact that she would always be in danger if she stayed with him. As long as Ortega was free, he would have to fear for his life, and so would she – always having to be afraid that armed henchmen would show up at their door one day and shoot them. He still remembered so vividly how those men in their second house had shot at _her_ , not at him. He couldn’t stand the thought that she might die because of him – he couldn’t do that to her – he realized with a dizzying sense of certainty that he couldn’t do _any of this_ to her – not the danger; not the limitations on her life; not the fact that she would always have to choose between spending time with him or taking care of her family. There was nothing in his future now except the inside of a safe house and perpetual fear – and that was all he had to offer her as well. If he let her stay with him, he was robbing her of every chance she had to live a normal life.

He sank down on a rock at the edge of the water and stared out with unseeing eyes over the grey waves. The sun rose higher and higher in the sky, but he was unaware of time passing as his mind raced frantically. Over and over, he kept coming back to the same thoughts. He couldn’t do this to her. She deserved better. He wanted her to have better. His throat felt tight and he was having trouble breathing as he finally realized that he had to face the terrible, terrible truth: they had no future together. The more he thought about it, the more he saw that there was only one possible way out of this for him, and it was horrible to even think about. But if he wanted to salvage at least _something_ of his life… he would have to take some drastic steps.

…

The next day, just before noon, Sergio walked into a small café on the outskirts of Madrid, leaving Raquel’s car parked at the curb in front. He sat down at one of the tables, and when a waitress came to take his order, he just asked for water. He didn’t think he could eat right now.

He was trying to keep down the guilt that had been haunting him for the entire three-hour car ride over here. _I’m sorry, Raquel. I’m so sorry._ He felt disgusted by himself, by what he’d done. His own words echoed through his head, spoken to her only a few weeks ago: _I would never leave you without saying goodbye,_ and he felt another terrible stab of guilt. He knew the note he had left for her was not enough, but he felt that he hadn’t had a choice. Still, pulling the door of their house closed behind himself as he left had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, and he wished with all his might that he could have held her in his arms one last time, that he could have given her one last kiss. The thought of how she would feel when she found his note broke his heart. He heard her voice: _I will always, always trust you_ , and he had to close his eyes for a moment. How he hated himself for doing this to her – but she deserved a better life.

When the waitress came to bring his water, he sternly pulled himself together and sat up straighter. He couldn’t drown in his guilt right now – he was here with a purpose. He took a deep breath as he felt a steely sense of determination come over him, then he drew his phone out of his pocket, ignoring another stab of guilt as he remembered that _she_ had bought this phone for him. He unlocked the screen, and swallowed hard as he swiped away the notifications of six missed calls from Raquel, and an equal number of voice mails. Pulling up the number pad, he dialed the number he had memorized from one of the case files. A woman picked up.

“Ágata,” he said. “This is the Professor.”

“Oh,” she replied, surprised, “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear from you again. Is the operation still going ahead?”

“I hope so, but I need to get a few things straightened out first. Can you tell me how to get in contact with Javier Ortega?”

She snorted.

“Everyone’s looking for him these days. The cops are after him, don’t know where he is right now.”

“Can you let him know I want to talk to him?”

“I don’t have his number, but I can let his man Marcos know.”

“Alright,” Sergio said. “You have my number now, please pass it along to Marcos.”

After that, all he could do was wait, staring nervously at his phone. At a certain point, Raquel called again, and it took all the strength he had not to answer, but he’d made his decision – now he had to follow through. Then suddenly, a blocked number appeared on his screen, and his heart started beating frantically. He rolled his shoulders once, took a deep breath, and felt the Professor manifest as he picked up.

“So,” a smooth voice sounded on the other end of the line. “I hear you want to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Sergio said firmly. “I’m tired of hiding, Javier. I can’t live my whole life like this. I’ve decided not to testify against you, if you agree to leave me alone.”

“Why would I agree to that?” Ortega said drily. “You’ve been under police protection for six months, how can I trust that you’re not working for them?”

“Don’t you have ways of finding that out?” Sergio asked, remembering how Elena had said that she suspected that Ortega had an informant within the police force.

“Maybe I do,” Ortega said in a non-committal voice.

“Well, then go ahead. I’ll wait.”

Ortega hung up and Sergio waited, assuming that Elena would have told her people to start looking for him by now. Sure enough, the blocked number called him back after only a few minutes, and Ortega’s voice sounded in his ear again.

“You stole a cop’s car, huh? That’s a ballsy move. Still, why wouldn’t I just shoot you and be _really_ sure you won’t testify against me?”

Sergio was ready for that question.

“Because I can offer you something in return. Two things, in fact.”

“Really?” Ortega said. “What are they?”

Sergio took a deep breath. What he was about to say was a bluff, based entirely on the fact that Ortega’s man hadn’t shot at him in their second house.

“First of all: I have the information you want,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’m willing to tell you what you want to know as a sign of good faith.”

“Well,” Ortega said, and Sergio heard immediately that his guess had been correct – Ortega did want information he thought Sergio had. “That’s interesting. We should definitely talk about that. What’s the second thing you can offer me?”

_I’m sorry, Raquel. I’m so sorry._ He pushed his glasses up his nose.

“A partnership,” he said.

“A partnership?”

“Yes. I have a plan for a most singular operation, but I need money to execute it, and I need to be sure that you won’t have me murdered halfway through. That’s why I think it would be mutually beneficial if we worked together.”

There was a short pause, and Sergio waited, every muscle tense. Finally, Ortega spoke again.

“ _How_ beneficial?” he asked.

Sergio leaned forward.

“Well,” he said. “How does 2.4 billion euros sound to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 💗 Kudos and comments are, as always, incredibly appreciated!


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